Graceless
by Windschatten
Summary: "Tricking people. Staying out of things. That's OUR family business, kiddo. So, how 'bout we leave martyrdom and the other fun party games to the mutton-heads? Let's just say YES to self-preservation instead! I mean, look at you! Such a lovely swirl of both heaven and that strange fairy-mumbo-jumbo-ness… They'd want you for all the wrong reasons and that's something I cannot have."
1. Chapter One (Season 2)

**Chapter One:** One late afternoon on August 7th, 2006

* * *

 _»_ _There's someone I'd like you to meet. And in the spirit of full disclosure, I should probably mention that she ain't exactly the greatest fan of our kind. Probably, because most of the others either had the munchies for her or tried to hook the girl up with a pretty leash'n'collar set_ _… So_ _oo_ _you could say that she isn't as fond of that side of her family as they seem to be of her._ _«_

 _»_ _In the end she's a freak by your standards and a perfectly innocent oddball by mine. She's— Well, let's just say that we're still not quite sure what kinda swirl she is, but I can promise you_ _this_ _one thing: that girl_ _will read you like a book. A_ _nd you_ _'_ _ll hate_ _it_ _— loathe it, even._ _«_

 _»_ _Worst part is that she won't even judge you for what she sees. She'll just trigger your inner conscience when you least expect it — ah, scratch that! She will_ _ **tear**_ _into it 'til you decide that you really don't like her_ _because that's just so much easier_ _. So, next thing you know is that you're making up some ridiculous excuse to avoid her in the future. It's just that_ _… «_

 _»_ _Betsy has always been weird like that_ _—_ _if not twice as much since that demon scum got to her_ _…_ _«_

 _»_ _Buuut how about you show me one person, deity, being —whatever, really— in this crazy ass world that you could actually call normal and get away with it! I mean_ _…_ _normality's just another convenient lie made for people who need such cuddly thoughts to put them to beddy at night — all of those deadheads who believe that this_ 'hot **or** cold, black **or** white' _kinda thing is still all the rage nowadays._ _«_

 _»_ _It's because she just doesn't fit into any of their categories — hell, can't really say she fit into one of mine either cause she's just so freakin' compassionate at times._ _«_

 _»…_ _It's what makes her a royal pain in the ass, but she's_ _ **my**_ _pain in the ass and that's the best excuse anyone's ever going to get for being obnoxious like that._ _«_

 _»_ _So, if you can find it in yourself to let her in, she'll light you up like the aurora borealis does with the northern skies. You'll feel tall, powerful and raw with the sheer beauty of things_ _…_ _it'll be like the good ol' days, Kali._ _«_

 _»_ _Now, mind, she's a little blinding at first, but please, by all means, just squint those lovely browns of yours and don't turn your back on her. After all, this is your chance to meet someone very special._ _«_

 _»_ _And who knows? Maybe you could become a very close second in her books when it comes to awesomeness. Because, let's face it — it's a given that I'll always be number one._ _«_

— Loki, speaking to Kali just before introducing the goddess to Liz in 1952

* * *

Since it wasn't exactly a common occurrence to find a stranger sitting at Bobby's kitchen table, the salutatory gun pointing at the blonde's head just happened to be Dean's versatile version of _'better safe than sorry'_.

Especially since he could tell with just one glance at the woman's profile that she was no more a hunter than he was a regular churchgoer. If anything, _she_ looked like the one who had accidentally been copy-pasted her from some suburban church's community flyer on top of one of Bobby's kitchen chairs.

Had she been one of them… _well_ , let's just say there'd be hell to pay for sneaking up on her like that.

With that in mind, the brothers slowly inched their way into the small room; all the while checking for more unexpected visitors as well as the man of the house himself. When they failed to locate the salvage yard owner, however, the Winchesters shared one meaningful look before aiming their growing suspicion at the only available scapegoat.

It certainly didn't help that the woman just sat there with pretty much the same justification as those dusty tomes towering on the chairs to her right and left; one hand hovering above the heavily yellowed pages which almost seemed to arch towards her inquisitive fingers.

 _'_ _Like some sort of neglected pet_ _'_ Sam couldn't help but think as he noticed how Dean was just seconds away from jumping to conclusions. It didn't really help that she calmly moved to take a sip from her steaming mug rather than offer them some sort of explanation as to why she was the one awaiting them.

What finally ticked his brother off, however, was the fact that the strange woman apparently simply _chose_ to ignore them.

"Just who the fuck are you?" Dean demanded to know as he circled her, trying to catch a glimpse of her face.

After he'd spent _hours_ cramped inside that randomly jacked car together with his brother —the one person Dean could never tell out about their father's last request— he couldn't care less for polite chit-chat.

To say Dean had been desperate to reach the sanctuary of Bobby's scrapyard would have been a bit of an understatement. _Now_ , however, there was this strange woman, sitting in **his** seat at Bobby's kitchen table —a seemingly insignificant detail that bothered him no less— and pretended like they didn't even exist.

Part of Dean even wanted to ignore the fact that he couldn't detect even the slightest evidence of a fight —something which Bobby would have been sure to put up— just so he had a proper excuse to vent some of his pent-up anger on her.

As if she'd sensed the direction Dean's thoughts had taken, the woman finally turned to acknowledge them and something about her gaze prompted at least the younger of the two Winchesters to lower his dagger.

Sam couldn't quite tell whether it was the somewhat unruly halo of wispy blond hairs framing her open face, or the look of childish innocence that made him do so. It just surprised him to see such artlessness on the face of a person who so obviously wasn't a stranger to find herself at the wrong end of a barrel.

Her eyes travelled between the two of them, seemingly indecisive of what should be done about those weapons pointed at her.

"Oi, I asked you a question!" Dean barked loud enough to make anyone jump. She didn't. And similar to how the blonde simply refused to be intimidated, she showed absolutely no inclination to introduce herself.

Eyes darkening, Dean took another step forward; his tense figure growing at the mercy of his thinning patience, "Listen here, you freakin' barbie doll! If you don't—"

"How about ya drop the pleasantries, Dean? Might as well just pour that holy stuff on her if ya really think I'd allow one of those demon bastards to just merrily skip over my doorstep" Bobby's gruff voice interrupted them none too kindly as he emerged from the living room with another stack of books in his arms — looking decidedly unenthusiastic about having to remedy the situation.

He stared at the brothers with an expression that clearly told them to either give him a good reason for their dramatics or drop their act altogether. "I'd suggest that you put that damn gun away if you don't wanna nose the barrel of mine, boy. There're no special rules for frequent nuisances — a guest's a guest."

To Dean's credit, it only took him about a split second to change from his positively threatening demeanor to one of poorly veiled annoyance.

" _Guest?_ Since when do you invite people over for freakin' tea parties?" Dean scoffed, even if he did eventually stow his gun away — if only to properly cross his arms as he waited for an explanation.

Sam meanwhile couldn't help but notice that the body language of Bobby's _guest_ had visibly changed when the old hunter had introduced her as such. While the soft look remained on her face, the slender set of shoulders straightened as she regarded the older hunter; her fingers curling protectively around a mug of herbal tea.

"Well, that was before you boys came around deciding to be all charming and polite, you dimwit!" the older hunter retorted as he walked over to the woman who met his eyes with a small smile on her lips. "Sorry 'bout them, dear. Here you go."

But instead of taking a look at the growing pile of tomes in front of her, the woman focused her expectant gaze on Bobby, who had, at some point, moved to stand in front of her — effectively shielding her from the Winchester's inquiring stares.

When the silence remained, Dean's sceptic frown only deepened. Unsure about whether to take action, he threw a glance to Sam who only shrugged. It wasn't like his brother knew what to make of this situation either — not to mention that Bobby himself was behaving somewhat strangely.

"How 'bout you explain this to us then, Bobby?" Dean finally suggested; already fed up with having to deal with this on top of everything else. Pressing two fingers to where he felt a major headache building beneath his temple, he added, "When I called, you didn't mention anything 'bout hosting the local church's book club tonight."

While Dean had not cared whether or not he came across as rude before, he now fully intended to show just how much he appreciated meeting goody two-shoes over there. That he felt slightly bad about succeeding so easily —she really looked like his words made her uncomfortable— was something he simply shoved down with all of his other emotions.

It could hardly be his fault.

Bobby, however, knew exactly what Dean was up to, "Look, Dean, I get it. And I am sorry that this came up right now, but I ain't gonna turn people away who come to me for help. I know what I signed up for and so do _you_!"

With his jaw set in defiance, Dean simply refused to let Booby win the staring contest which inevitably ensued. Especially when a small hand suddenly made an appearance on Bobby's arm; giving it a slight squeeze before the rest of the person appeared at the side of the salvage yard owner — fully presenting herself for the first time.

And then, it just clicked.

Her strangeness, Bobby's attempts to shield her from them…

This wasn't just a small town's poster girl. _This_ was actually _so_ much worse.

While Bobby's guest couldn't exactly be called short, there was something about her figure that made her appear frail in the dim light of the kitchen. It just so happened that her pale skin and the soft features only added to her image as she regarded them with unguarded curiosity; a picture of perfect ingenuousness dressed in an old-fashioned pale summer dress.

Dean had to admit that she was pretty, though in an elfin way that he didn't really care for. Especially since the hunter in him recognized the otherworldliness about her. Not the kind that promised immediate danger but a strange sort of radiance that just spelled trouble and Dean didn't want any of that standing this close to Bobby.

The dimly lit kitchen only seemed to further add to the contrast between the worn hunter and the supernatural being. Even if the female creature made it quite obvious that she felt perfectly at ease here — faced with three hunters and the possibility of winding up as this evening's casualty.

"Boys, this is Liz" Bobby introduced her — still somewhat reluctant. It almost seemed as if he had a vague premonition that he would come to regret ever having brought them together. "She's an ol' friend of mine. Liz, I told you about Dean and Sam."

While the Winchesters didn't exactly bother to hide their suspicion, the woman named Liz smiled warmly at them — dimples quick to form on her heart shaped face. It was hard to imagine how Bobby's mention of them being _old_ friends and her simple-minded happy-go-lucky attitude could even fit into the same room.

Dean, who seriously started to get creeped out by her whole persona, chose to conveniently wrap his uncomfortableness with one of his snarky observation, "'She mute or what?"

"Dean!" Sam finally interjected, deciding that his brother's crudity was as good a moment as any to speak up for the first time since entering the kitchen.

"Alright, that's it!" Bobby snapped, though the thought of why the boys were here made him keep his voice level. He would give them the peace and space they needed, but he just couldn't allow Dean to turn John's death into an excuse for acting like such a douche. "Go unpack your stuff or find something else to make yourselves useful! Just buzz off!"

"Hell no! First of all, I want to know what _this_ is about, Bobby!" Dean demanded without any inclination to back down as he took a step towards the odd pair. "What about crazy-pants here? 'cause if I didn't miss the memo about you openin' some sort of monster guesthouse, I'd say she messed with your head old man! Since when do you invite strange creatures over for frickin' tea?"

Sam, who sensed that this conversation quickly headed towards a very dead end, stepped forward until he stood next to his brother with his raised hands. "Bobby, we really don't want to meddle with your affairs, but—"

"Well then, how about tryin' to mind your own damn business for a change?"

"—but how about a quick heads up? Like, giving us a bit more than just a name to work with? — I mean, no offense, Liz, but we've had a bit of rough week and it would help if you two could just… tell us what you're up to?" Sam finally shrugged a little helplessly while Dean looked like he would like to add a few less diplomatic demands to that, if necessary.

When Bobby took a deep breath, some of the tension eased out of the room.

While he didn't care for being forced to explain himself —in his own home no less— the more reasonable part of him, the one who had tried to make the best of the situation after supernatural beings had clawed their way into his life, understood where the boys' suspicions stemmed from.

Before the old hunter could however relent, Liz beat him to it.

 _I am terribly sorry to intrude on you._ — said the note she had hurriedly scribbled inside a notebook before showing it to the two Winchesters. _If I had known that Robert expected you, I wouldn't have bothered him. I usually just drop the items I collected over time and then stay for a cup of tea._

She was completely oblivious to the look Dean exchanged with Sam before both of them turned on Bobby.

" _Robert?_ "

"What does _'usually'_ mean?"

Pausing her eager scribbling, Liz turned to the old hunter just as he simply shrugged, "Met her during a case in the nineties… There were news of a trickster and at first, I thought that Liz here had to be the culprit. 'sure was wrong about that" Bobby admitted with a wry smirk and Sam was admittedly caught off guard by the fondness that colored the old hunter's next words, "Liz took good care of that bastard before I even had a chance to figure it out myself. Since then she's been dropping in once or twice a year."

"Oh come on!" Dean groaned and when the other two hunters in the room frowned at him, he gestured dismissively towards Liz. "Just because she looks like _that_ doesn't make her anything less of a freakin' monster!" When Liz frowned at him, he scoffed uncaringly, "Just calling them as I see them…"

Ignoring the prominent vein on Bobby's throat, the older Winchester turned towards Liz almost conversationally, "What are you anyway?"

Even if Sam disagreed with his brother's choice of words, he couldn't deny that he too was curious about the nature of the one supernatural being which had been given free rein in Bobby Singer's house.

It took her some time, but finally Liz handed them her notebook.

 _That's a very good question._

If Dean felt like just strangling the woman by this point, he overplayed it surprisingly well by handing the notebook to Sam and proceeding to give Liz the best _'I've-known-you-for-like-five-minutes-now-and-I'm-already-so-done-with-your-bullshit'—_ stare he could muster.

Sam meanwhile only raised his brows before handing it back to the encouragingly smiling girl.

"You wanna tell me that you have not the slightest idea just what the hell you are?" Dean finally asked, his voice taking on a patronizing touch to convey that he'd call bull on anything that would come out of her mouth. To Sam, however, his brother sounded like he was talking to a person he considered mentally retarded — which happened to be the same conclusion that Bobby reached in about that exact moment.

Before the old hunter could however step in, Liz finally dropped her smile with a sigh and used Bobby's shoulder as support for her notebook; effectively stopping the man from defending her as she scribbled her next message.

 _I've been hunted for longer than I care to admit and for the sole reason of being different from any other supernatural being I encountered. It's about time that I find answers and while I am sorry for my bad timing, I can't put it off any longer._

If Liz' words made Dean feel even in the least bit guilty, he easily squashed that feeling in favor of sending Bobby a long inquiring stare.

"So… you're going to help this unknown supernatural freak creature with her… _existential crises_ while none of us knows what she's really capable of… Does this sound about right, or did I miss any of the small details which you oh so conveniently chose to ignore, Bobby?"

Instead of pointing out how he was more than capable of making decisions on his own, Bobby calmly but clearly explained, "I offered her to help with the research and Liz will stay here while we try to find an answer."

Dean nodded as if the thought of having her around didn't make him taste bile in his mouth.

"How long this gonna take?"

Bobby returned his stare for quite some time; his raised brows and widely opened eyes a fair warning that he was on the verge of raising his voice again. "We'll see."

Not once taking his eyes off Bobby's strange new friend, Dean stomped past that persistent, if somewhat timid smile on Liz' face to take a beer from the fridge before disappearing outside.

His muttering about the dubious merits of _"_ _—inviting freakin' supernatural mental cases to one's own home—_ _"_ could easily be heard inside and it caused both Bobby and Sam to sigh simultaneously.

The younger Winchester however finally gave himself a push and extended his hand towards Liz, "Sorry about my brother. Dean's usually not as— well… it's just a bad day for meeting new people, I guess. I'm Sam by the way. It's nice to meet you, Liz."

Judging by the way she took his hand with such obvious delight, Sam could tell that this small gesture meant a great deal to her. For some strange reason this observation made him feel both guilty and at the same time pleased to have reached out all — even if it had been an unconscious move.

When Liz handed her scribbles to Bobby only a moment later, he scanned them quickly before shaking his head with a grumbling sigh.

"He'll get over it, girl, maybe give him some space and enough time to work on his car… just promise me that you won't go and try to apologize to the idjit."

The way the older hunter spoke to Liz hinted that there had to be some a story behind this peculiar remark and judging by the look on her face, Bobby had been right about her train of thoughts.

It was just then that Sam realized how well the older hunter knew Liz. And while he too would have preferred some time without strangers, he understood where Bobby came from.

Also, the idea of busying himself with something —anything really— seemed more sensible than going after a brooding Dean right then. He was aware that he'd have to deal with his brother and his own loss at some point, but the chance to figure out the true nature of Liz sounded like a good challenge for now. At least Sam would be able to find out more about this strange woman — all while making sure that she definitely didn't pose any threat.

"Hey Liz. Mind if I help with the research?"

* * *

 **Author's note:** So, this happens to be an idea that's been on my mind long enough to have my fingers itching. I have to admit that I don't know where I plan to take this yet, but I got a few fun ideas and I really felt like Gabriel could use a crazy little patchwork family on earth, so there's Liz (and some more members whom I plan to introduce later on). Liz is a strange one, but I seem to be quite fond of writing those. I hope you will like her too!

The story starts at the beginning of season 2, after John's death, and with the arrival of the brothers at Bobby's. I intend to mostly follow the storyline with a few small (or maybe not so small) changes here and there.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two:** One very warm day on August 14th, 2006

* * *

 _»_ _I heard about your fight with the trickster, macchar, and I just wanted to let you know that I support your plan. Well, maybe not the part about involving that hunter. He is, after all, just a lowly human who would selfishly choose his own kind over you at any given time_ _…_ _Although I do have to admit that his resources might be helpful in order for you to find the truth._ _«_

 _»_ _It's just that—… Your trust in humanity is something I will probably never understand. They have done absolutely nothing to deserve it. Quite the contrary, if it's true what Loki told me about that mortal who sold you out to Hell's filthy little minions_ _…._ _But let's not talk about that._ _«_

 _»_ _You will promise_ _me_ _to be careful around them. Pray to me if the need should arise and regardless of anything else, I would consider myself very lucky if you were to share your findings with me one day. There's hope that once we know what you're made off, we'll be able to create more of you so that this stupid Trickster can't keep you to himself all of the time._ _«_

 _»_ _Oh, don't look at me like that, macchar! Of course you two will reconcile. It's only a matter of time. I personally believe that it's a miracle that you haven't had more issues with this man-child before. He can't even properly function when you're not around to pamper him, and once he has returned to you, the damned fool will be much more supportive of your quest — that I guarantee you._ _«_

 _»_ _Loki, for all the trouble and headaches he loves to cause for others, is not very fond of change himself. And while he is someone who is quite impossible to understand, he taught me something very important the day he introduced me to you._ _«_

 _»_ _While weaknesses can be the source of formidable strength, one has to be aware of where the vulnerabilities lie in order to truly master them. And there will come a time when knowing who you really are, macchar, could be the one thing that makes all the difference._ _«_

— Kali, talking to Liz after she and Loki parted ways sometime around January 2006

* * *

"When you agreed to let Sam help us with the research, I thought you'd be much more… _tight-lipped_ about the important details" Bobby chose to point out somewhat prickly, having waited for Sam to go check up on his brother outside before addressing the issue.

Liz, who had just curled up on the couch with a fresh cup of what smelled like chamomile tea, inhaled some of its soothing aroma before inclining her head in the general direction of the hunter.

They'd both spent the better part of the night browsing through his library and yet —for some frustrating reason— she still managed to pull off looking as fresh as a daisy while Bobby felt each and every bone in his body aching in retaliation. Maybe he should have listened the fifth time Liz had tried convincing him that he'd better get some proper rest.

It was just that Bobby felt somewhat uneasy leaving her alone while the boys stayed under the same roof.

He knew the brothers meant well. It was just that, as hunters, they couldn't really help being suspicious of anything remotely supernatural. And that with good reason. After all it had taken Bobby years to trust Liz like he did today.

A being that happened to be probably about five times his age… and currently surprisingly content to just nestle herself up to the faded pillows of his old couch while humming inside her mug; dressed in cheap shorts and one of his old plaid shirts since she didn't bring anything with her.

Now that he had interrupted her break, however, Liz' inquiring gaze easily prompted the hunter to further elaborate.

"I know that you're no threat just like you know that I wouldn't try anything to harm ya" the hunter sighed after some hesitation; making sure to send a quick glance through the window to check for the return of the brothers. "But you do know that it sure ain't the safest bet to let them on about your weaknesses _before_ those idjits put their plans aside on to best get rid of ya, right?"

Making a small noise at the back of her throat, Liz finally placed her mug aside to properly converse with the hunter.

 _'I want him to trust my word — not question what details I might have skipped for convenience's sake'_ she signed Bobby; making sure to slow the movements of her hands for him.

He always got a little rusty with sign language in between their annual meetings.

 _'He only knows that I grew up in Ireland and it's not really a secret that I am not exactly on friendly terms with the other deities there. It would be quite_ _—'_ Bobby rummaged through his mind, finally able to recognize the sign for _'—_ _foolish to_ _ **not**_ _to ask them for help if the circumstances were any different. And the boy is a bright child — you were right about that. Don't you believe that he would have figured it out_ _anyway_ _?'_

Both the hunter and the female creature just stared at one another for quite some time. He silently unhappy with having been pushed in the middle of yet another conflict between Liz and the Winchester family — and she thinking of a way to make things easier for her old friend.

 _'I could still leave and come back during a more convenient time.'_

"Listen, girl, there's no such thing as _a more convenient time._ So, you'd better stay put right where you are!" Pausing just to make sure that the message had been understood and accepted, Bobby's voice softened to its usual gruffness, "You told me that you fought your family over this. Who would I be to turn you down now that I know just how important this search is for you?"

While the small outburst at the beginning had caused Liz to incline her head with a fond smile, his last words left her with a strangely somber look.

Sensing that this was still a very sensitive topic for her, Bobby simply picked up where he had left off, "The boys will understand with time… You might wanna work on your attitude, though. Just quit pushing their buttons, ya hear me?" She did — if the false innocent blink of her eyes served as an indicator. "They may think that you're just some kind of supernatural simpleton, but I damn well know you're not. So, the only possible explanation is that you're up to something, Liz…"

Already having reached for her cooling mug of tea, Liz' movements stilled for a second. It was all the confirmation Bobby needed.

"What do you plan to accomplish by provoking Dean, Liz?"

The contemplative look on her face disappeared so quick that Bobby might as well have imagined it. Especially once Liz conveniently hid her expression behind the rim of her tea mug.

"You know what it's like to lose someone important, right?" Bobby inquired since he had a feeling that this might be the actual rub here.

He had always seen Liz as someone who, for the lack of humanity in itself, tended to be very, if not overly compassionate. Hell, she had even stayed with him whenever a hunt pushed him back into those dark places he'd ended up after his wife's death — nights spent wallowing in a rather unhealthy balance of both self-pity and –hate while he'd fling ungratefulness at the next best person. And she had never once reproached him for attempting to shoot her during that one time where he had been well on the way of drinking himself into oblivion.

Forcefully pushing those uncomfortable thoughts aside, Bobby waited until he knew for certain that they were on the same page again.

"Just give the boy a break, Liz."

Finally abandoning the comfort of the couch, Liz uncurled her legs to place herself in front of his desk. Within a split-second Bobby knew that he didn't like the smile on her face one bit. Somehow it seemed like his careful chosen words had just given her the most wonderful idea.

Before the old hunter could properly express his apprehensions, however, his strange supernatural house guest just sent a few hand signs his way while backing away.

 _'How about some French toast for breakfast? And I believe there are still some oranges left. Some nice, freshly pressed juice might lift that spirit of yours_ _…_ _which you're evidently lacking right now.'_

"Liz…" Bobby growled in a warning, narrowing his eyes at her retreating figure.

Instead of stopping to listen to his protests, the young woman walked out of the room with a spring in her steps. Giving a futile attempt to at least try and soothe the pain between his furrowed brows, Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose and eventually turned his attention back to the book on European nature spirits on the desk before him.

Carefully lifting one of the ancient pages, he called after her, "How high are the chances that this'll just end in another damn mess?"

For a second her face actually made a reappearance in the doorframe as she leant around the corner to show Bobby her mischievous dimples.

Sometimes the old hunter couldn't help but wonder if there had been a time in her past, where Liz had been less carefree. There was just something about her aura that made her appear so very fragile at times. Especially when she thought nobody payed her any attention. It was almost as if there was a different side to her; only that she'd long buried it in order to properly move on.

Just one more reason why Bobby preferred her easygoing nature. Even if, nine times out of ten, it promised trouble. Just like that pack of bacon she now produced from behind her back; proceeded to flourish it in front of him — still maintaining a safe distance.

"You gonna need somethin' better than bacon to bribe me. 'specially if you want to make up for that headache you're causin' me" Bobby finally scoffed, though he sounded exasperated at best.

* * *

Dean had to give it to Liz that she had quite cleverly kept out of his sight. There were of course signs of her presence here and there — like the food she prepared, or the scent of her herbal teas, which she seemed to consume in amounts that easily bordered some sort of addiction.

Yet, ever since their first awkward encounter, Dean had not caught more than a glimpse of her.

The fact that he spent most of his time outside, working on the Impala, could have been another reason. Not to mention that Dean himself avoided her as much as he could — all while trying to convince himself that he wasn't actively doing so. He liked to think that, if the circumstances were a bit different, he probably would have been the one to crowd her just to make sure that she'd either snap, or just leave.

But thanks to her diligently sidestepping him, the first day of staying at Bobby's had not been as bad as it could have been — at least in this respect.

There were however other things that ruled the forefront of Dean's mind.

The conflict of wishing his dad back, while at the same time dreading what else he might ask of him, had smudged the line between what the now eldest Winchester considered his duty… and what he did in his own interest.

Dean couldn't yet possibly wrap his mind around the truth of his father's death yet; he actually refused to even try and understand it. Especially since he couldn't help but question his own miracle recovery and how exactly it could be linked to the dead body he'd watched burning to ashes on the pyre.

He had so _much_ that he still needed to ask him.

Like, for example, what reason could possibly compel him to take out his very own brother?

That Dean would rather die attempting to save Sammy from whatever fate their dad had talked about was of course beyond dispute. Instead the part about not knowing what the future had in store for them, of what it would do to them, just scared the hell out of Dean.

And he wouldn't be able to share any of this with anyone, not even with Bobby.

So, could it be that he was just venting his frustration on the one person who had put the cherry on top of this load of crap? Possibly.

Even if this admission didn't mean that Dean would warm up to that freaking nutcase anytime soon.

He simply refused to accredit Liz' evasive behavior to any sort of consideration on her part. Whatever reason she had for ghosting around him, it couldn't possibly stem from sympathy. He actually felt more inclined to think that she feared him; a reason that warranted both his suspicions and attitude towards her — the whole Little Miss Sunshine persona and stupid grinning aside.

In Deans opinion someone, or rather some _thing_ , had quite literally knocked the sense out of Liz. Because, if this whole self-discovery-trip wasn't just an elaborate scheme to get the names of the hunters Bobby worked with, Blondie sure was asking for it.

Similar to his brother, who chose this very moment to approach Dean with yet another plan on how to get him to talk about his feelings.

"Here — I brought you something to drink" Sam offered as a way of greeting and Dean didn't even bother looking up from the Impala's passenger door that he currently attempted to flatten. He already knew that he'd find that contemplative frown on Sam's face; the one which usually promised more annoying questions that Dean sure as hell wouldn't bother answering.

So, instead of offering Sam an easy way out by simply refusing to speak with him, Dean moved away from the Impala to accept the offered bottle. He sat down in the shade of the rundown shed that still contained some of Bobby's old tools and raised one hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. The afternoon heat slowly started to get uncomfortable.

Sam meanwhile awkwardly stuffed his hands in his pockets as he tried to make his tall frame appear smaller.

"What about crazy-pants? Surely you haven't left her alone with Bobby?" Dean implied only half serious as he unscrewed the bottle of water — another one of Sam's hints. For some reason his little brother didn't approve of the quantity of alcohol that he had managed to consume since their arrival here.

"She went into town to get a few things, buy groceries…"

Squinting against the bright sun to catch a glimpse of the house, Dean took a generous swig before pointing out, "She didn't take one of Bobby's cars."

"No. She decided to walk instead."

The somewhat forced casualness of the younger Winchester didn't fool his brother for even one second.

"Well, isn't that just peachy? Let's just hope that her shopping list doesn't include any human body parts or other unsavory things" Dean retorted with little humor. "Any news on how we can off her? And please don't tell me you ate any of that crap she cooked up."

Under his older brother's scrutinizing gaze, Sam couldn't help the equally humorless scoff once he realized that Dean was indeed doubting whether he had kept himself in check around the unknown supernatural being.

He did however try to make his retort sound a bit more lighthearted than he actually felt, "I'm more surprised that _you_ said no to pie."

"Well, I ain't gonna eat any of her nasty witchy poison stuff!" Dean snapped back a little more indignant than he had meant to. That pie had indeed smelled amazing and for only a second, he had been tempted to throw his caution to the wind.

Clearing his throat when he noticed Sam's raised brows, Dean chose to continue, "Anyway, back to the topic. What have you found out about her weaknesses? And please tell me there's a quick way. Don't wanna make things too messy. It's bad enough that she's kinda…"

The little whistle Dean used as a substitute for emphasizing that he thought the woman had a screw loose somewhere, made his brothers lips twitch — if only lightly.

After all Sam knew better than to point out that after having spent most of his day with Liz, he found himself siding with Bobby more and more. Well, definitely not to the point of feeling at ease around the blond house guest, but he no longer doubted that she had told them the truth. And for whatever reason, Liz herself had been the one advising him to stay on Dean's side — making Sam wonder just what was going on inside that head of hers.

The slip of paper she had handed him before leaving for town suddenly seemed that much heavier in Sam's jeans pockets; especially when he contemplated what to say next. He had not planned on lying to his brother, something that Liz had seemed to anticipate.

Yet, betraying her and thus Bobby didn't seem like the right choice either.

"We mostly discussed on how to narrow down the possibilities of her parentage — gathered a few questions that Liz will try to answer so that we'll be able to analyze them tomorrow. Bobby's busy researching a number of books that could be helpful from here on. But he promised to make his pot roast later."

While Dean contemplated what his brother had told him, he scratched along his jaw, smudging some of the grease on his cheek.

He knew of course that Sam was trying to bait him with the promise of food. But the thought of Bobby making a peace offer in the form of his unmatched pot roast did indeed gain back some of Dean's goodwill. Especially since he couldn't help feeling a bit let down by the older hunter's cold behavior — not that Dean even bothered to once consider his own actions towards him and especially his guest.

Eventually the older Winchester shrugged and poured the remaining contents of the bottle over his head before handing it back to his brother. With a firm clap on Sam's shoulder, Dean simply brushed past him to get back to work.

"Then we'll just have to wait and see what you're going to discover tomorrow."

* * *

Not only was it humid outside but also oppressively hot and somehow Sheriff Jody Mills found herself standing in front of the local supermarket's fruit selection.

Her day had been truly terrible so far — marked by the questionable highlight of saving some drunk high school kid who had decided to stick his junk inside a soft-drink machine.

Somewhere between trying to calm the boy, who had by the time of her arrival been near hysteric to lose the thing before he could even put it proper use, and calming the scandalized neighborhood party threatening to just take the matter in their own hands –apparently literally– Jody had decided that she'd treat herself to something nice.

It felt like an incredibly long time since she had last done something just to make herself feel a little bit better. Long enough, the sheriff realized, that she had absolutely no idea what might actually do the trick.

"'the hell with it!" she finally mumbled and simply grabbed one of the watermelons that happened to be on sale.

She carelessly dumped it inside her shopping cart and proceeded to check her list for the things her husband Sean had asked for.

At some point the small exchange of shopping lists and notes on what needed fixing around the house had become their sole form of communication — small pieces of paper pinned at the front of their fridge with the photo magnets showing a happy family of three.

Absorbed in her own sad little word, Jody failed to notice the person who had suddenly appeared next to her cart. A little perplexed the sheriff blinked at the young woman, before finally offering a very unsure: "Hi…"

The woman's response to the sorry excuse of a greeting was a dimpled smile paired with an expectant air around her as she continued just looked at her — the kind of look that got beneath one's skin and seemed to expose every little secret.

Unsure if the woman just happened to be rather shy, Jody finally inquired uncomfortably, "Uh, can I help you with something?"

Her blond hair danced around her pretty face as she gently shook her head, still smiling with a brightness that almost hurt Jody's eyes. For a moment the sheriff froze before checking around if there was something the woman could possibly want from behind her, but she stood in the middle of the cleaning material aisle and wasn't blocking her way.

There was only Jody, her cart and this lithe, faintly freckled girl with those exhaustingly lively eyes. Looking her up and down to check for weapons, Jody noticed that she'd donned faded shorts and what seemed to be a man's shirt — one that had already seen its best days.

"I actually know a few words in sign language if that would be of any help…" Jody finally offered as a last resort, but the woman's hands didn't produce any movement. Instead they unloaded another watermelon directly into Jody's arms; the object appearing seemingly out of nowhere.

Before Jody could do much more than stare dumbly at the offending green thing, the woman had already taken another careful step closer. Anticipating the foreseeable question, the blonde slowly raised her hand, formed to a loose fist, and then knocked on the melon in Jody's arms.

The fruits gave a hollow response, almost like that of a bow-taut drum, while the one that had already been put inside the cart sounded rather wooden.

It took Jody a ridiculous amount of time to finally summarize, "You want me to buy this one instead?"

The woman smiled again and nodded, before slowly backing away to give the sheriff some much appreciated space.

"Well, if you say so… Didn't know that knocking on a watermelon tells you which one's best."

When Jody got back from returning the first melon, the strange woman had already disappeared.

Once the sheriff left the supermarket with her purchases, however, she spotted her standing at the other end of the parking area — apparently quite unhappy with whatever her cell phone had informed her about. Next to her there were two full grocery bags awaiting to be transported home.

Until the sheriff had stored her own bags away and finally settled down behind the wheel of her car, she still planned to her resolution to ignore the blond woman and drive home to cool her knock-approved watermelon.

In the end Jody spent a few moments sitting in her car — going through the small number of gestures she still remembered from that sign language seminar, before she took a deep breath and pulled up next to the watermelon woman.

"Need a lift?"

* * *

Dean just returned from inside the tool shed when he noticed the police car standing in front of the house.

His first thought jumped to the conclusion that somehow the police had gotten wind of where he and Sam had disappeared to after leaving the hospital. After all, they hadn't exactly asked for permission before taking their father's body with them so that they could give him a proper hunter funeral.

The second —and most obvious— guess, however, seemed to confirm itself when he spotted Bobby who pushed Liz inside the house. The following conversation between the hunter and the female officer seemed to standoffish at best.

It marked the point where something inside Dean finally snapped.

With deliberate slow movements he set down the cutoff hammer and picked up pace as he hurried down a path that would get him to the back entrance of the house without being spotted from the front porch.

His breathing quickened as he stalked narrowly around the many car wrecks, picking up speed with every turn until he almost ran into Sam who had abandoned his research to evade the police.

Stumbling out of his brother's way, Sam turned to call after him, "Whoa - hey! Dean what's gotten into you?"

"Into me? What's gotten into _me_?!" Dean barked in blinding anger, suddenly turning on Sam with his jaw clenched. "It's that nasty creature you and Bobby cuddled up to, Sammy! She's been escorted back by the police and now what? I'm just putting two and two together — what do you think happened?! You gonna give her a pat on the back and tell her that whatever sick stuff she's been up to sure wasn't her fault 'cause she's looking like a freakin' Barbie doll?!"

When Sam just stared at his older brother with confusion written all over his face, Dean scoffed and pointed an accusing finger in his direction.

"I told you this thing was a freakin' monster but when do you ever listen to me?"

There were some very bitter, almost volatile emotions rewriting themselves across Dean's face as his muscles flexed beneath his skin. He was so very far beyond the point of regaining his cool and Sam's ongoing silence seemed to further ignite his shortly fused temper.

Dean took one step closer to his little brother; squaring his shoulders.

"Let me guess, you probably bonded with her over being outcasts and book nerds, right?" Dean assumed while strangely satisfied that Sam's face fell in response. "Newsflash, Sammy: Your little freak friend probably harmed someone bad enough for the police to show up! Now you will have to take responsibility for whatever she's done! So, let's get inside and take care of that creature like we should have done in the first place!"

Dean didn't wait for his brother to follow him. He didn't even turn around to look at him; a part of him already aware that he'd feel guilty for what he'd just said.

Anyway, he had a monster to kill and no matter what the others would say, there was no such thing as an innocent monster. Not in Dean's book, at least, and he had learned from one of the best.

Just when he lifted the plank of the secret weapon stash hidden in one step of the stairs of Bobby's back porch, Dean heard the police car leaving. He waited for another minute, doing a quick check on ammo before he burst through the backdoor.

The look of surprise on Liz' face didn't really match Dean's vision of her shrinking away with guilt. But for someone who found herself at gunpoint on two consecutive days, she seemed surprisingly calm. Maybe the novelty had worn off at some point.

"Do you know what really makes me sick?" Dean asked without preamble, yet somehow failed to enforce his words with the proper amount of distaste. "You're the kind that sucks up to people; you make them believe that there's actually good in you before you turn on them! But you can't fool me, Blondie. I see right through that crappy act."

In all honesty, Dean just wanted to end this whole mess. He wanted things to return back to how they were supposed to be — and he very much wanted to believe that this _thing_ before him should be held responsible for everything that felt so very wrong right at that moment.

Just when Dean raised the shotgun to aim at Liz' chest, Bobby came rushing in through the front door — directly followed by Sam who had apparently taken the detour to alarm the older hunter to the situation.

"If you don't put that gun down, Dean, I swear I will—"

"What are you getting all worked up about, Bobby? It probably won't harm her anyway, right?" Dean said with a casual shrug as he cocked the gun; the sound uncomfortably loud in the sudden silence of the kitchen. "After all you made sure that we wouldn't be able to properly harm this monster, right? But it should weaken that thing enough so that we'll be able to tie her up."

Dean's humorless smirk suggested that he felt a bit smug about having it all figured out, even if it looked more like a grimace on his tense face.

"Just one quick question" John's oldest now threatened with a carefully low note. "How long have you been aware of her doing shady stuff, Bobby? I mean, the police — seriously? What should the police want with her if they didn't agree that she's suspicious? A little trip to town _my ass_! What have you really been up to, huh, _Liz_?"

Before Bobby could say anything in Liz' or his own defense, she moved to the kitchen counter, taking her discarded shopping list and a pen — all the while making sure that Dean didn't mistake her movements for an attempt to arm herself.

When she handed him the note scribbled on the back of the paper, her hand didn't shake in the slightest and the expression of her eyes almost seemed to plead with him for some reason — even if it didn't seem to be for her own life.

" _'Please check your father's journal for an entry of Eil_ _ís.'_ " Dean read aloud when she finally held it up for him to decipher; having noticed that he probably wasn't all that inclined to loosen the grip on his shotgun. "So, my father hunted you before? That's why you evaded me, huh? Feared that I'd find a way how to turn your freaky smile upside down." Without taking his eyes off the female creature, Dean barked, "Sam! Why don't you make yourself useful and find me that entry on an _Eil_ _ís_?"

"Dean…" Bobby interrupted as he tried to move closer to Liz.

"No, Bobby! Stay right where you are while I prove to you just what kind of monstrosity you invited into your own home!"

Seeing the tiniest movement of Liz shaking her head, Bobby backed down reluctantly, thinking that he should have known better. While he didn't doubt for a second that Liz had a plan on how to defuse the situation, he couldn't help but wonder if this had been part of her grand plan.

The best scenario he could come up with included at least one round of shots being fired before the brothers would have to deal with whatever insults had been traded between them in the backyard — if the younger Winchester's unusual refusal to side with his brother was anything to go by.

"' _Eil_ _ís_ ' is not some kind of creature, it's simply a name" Sam finally informed his brother when he reemerged from the library with their father's journal in his hands.

"It's pronounced _'IE-leesh'_ " Bobby corrected them. "It's the Irish Gaelic form of Elizabeth. The reason why I call her Liz. And your dad didn't hunt her, Dean. He _worked_ with Liz together on a case."

Rudely shoving the open book against his brother's chest, Sam took Dean's gun away before he could even protest. Giving Dean a terse nod, the younger Winchester secured the weapon before putting it behind him.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone present, Dean scanned the page titled with Liz actual name and his frown deepened with every line his eyes passed over. When he finally finished, he turned a page and then another one — evidently searching for more.

Once Dean realized that there wasn't, he tensed.

And when the full true scale of the situation hit him, he thumbed the journal down on the desk before leaving the house without another word.

* * *

Liz gave Dean a good couple of hours, before she eventually approached him.

She found him sitting on the trunk of his wrecked car, sipping from a bottle that he had apparently kept hidden somewhere. Probably for the day when Sam would confiscate the rest inside the house.

Not bothering to wait for his permission, Liz quietly moved to sit next to him — giving him just enough space to make sure that he wouldn't immediately bolt.

They remained like that for quite some time and the silence surrounding them would have been almost companionable if it weren't for Dean's sour face.

Liz offered him back the journal, knowing that he'd refuse it even before he made it a point to ignore her. But with a similar sense of stubbornness, Liz stayed and watched as the stars bloomed across the sky.

When Dean finally inclined his head, it was just enough to let her know that it wasn't unintentional, but somewhat short of having to actually face her, "Why haven't you mentioned it earlier? Why wait until I make a complete fool of myself?"

If the bitterness in his voice became all too apparent right then, he didn't really care. He just felt very, very tired. And more than a bit drunk.

Liz however considered his words for a moment before finally saying, "I didn't want you to believe that I am only after the information inside John's journal. But then one thing led to another and now I feel terribly sorry for messing everything up. It's one of the few things that never change. Me, messing things up, that is."

It wasn't so much the revelation that she suddenly had gained the ability to speak, but the stark contrast between her appearance and the sound of _that_ voice coming out her mouth that caused the Winchester to cringe next to her.

Fiddling a bit with a loose threat of Bobby's shirt in a very convincing portrayal of human insecurity, she finally admitted, "I thought that if I should succeed to redirect some of your anger towards myself, I'd be able to save you from feeling sorry for something you'd otherwise say to Robert or your brother. I meant to… It was actually meant to be a _controlled demolition_. I had falsely assumed that it would be easier for you to focus your anger on just me."

Pulling a face, Dean finally looked at her and completely disregarded her words, "So the point about you stealin' voices is true then?"

"I _borrow_ them" Liz objected with the familiar indignation coloring Bobby's voice that indeed somehow wormed itself out between her lips. She actually managed to look both properly offended and at the same time pleased to be able to invalidate his accusation.

"I must say _grumpy old man_ suits you."

Liz actually smirked in a way that bore absolutely no similarity to her sunny smiles. It looked downright wicked as she regarded him out of the corner of her eyes.

"I am sure the grumpy old man will be pleased to hear that."

Dean snorted without even giving it much effort and this time they lapsed into a silence that was slightly less uncomfortable than before — the Winchester still torn between his cordial dislike for the blond thing sitting next to him and Liz wondering how to make up for what had happened earlier.

"Sheriff Jody Mills offered to drive me back since I had quite a lot to carry. I met her at the supermarket and we bonded over watermelons" Liz finally offered casually as if she hadn't just given him the reason for the police car's presence earlier. "As thanks I gave her my recipe for melon sorbet, which is why she drove me up to the house. I should have known that Robert would be uncomfortable about having the police around and that you guys might get the wrong idea."

Dean merely continued to take more generous swigs from the bottle now that everything made a whole lot more of sense to him. He couldn't say that he was happy but at least she had decided to take some of the blame.

Her next remark caught him a little bit off guard, however.

"I didn't look inside, you know? Inside the journal, I mean."

Dean raised his brows in her direction and she simply met his gaze. It was in that moment —with the direct light of his working lamp clipped to one of the unhinged doors shining on her face— that he noticed for the first time that her eyes were a strange mix of greens and gold. As far as appearances went, they had to be the most supernatural thing about her.

Meaning to slightly cock his head to one side, Dean felt himself drifting away from her as he fought to regain his balance, "Is this you askin' me for permission to take a look at it?"

"Not quite" she smiled and for some weird reason Dean actually started to get used hearing Bobby's voice coming out of her mouth. He really did hope that this was only due to his level of intoxication. Bobby with boobs _was_ , after all, a rather disturbing image. "How about you tell me yourself?"

As if there could be some sort of secret trap to her innocent question, he searched her facial features for anything beside that annoyingly patient smile.

When he found nothing overly suspicious, Dean snatched the journal from her hands. His brain meanwhile helpfully provided that he had not dared to touch it after what had happened to its former owner.

Well, before he'd attempted to use it as a weapon earlier.

Staring for a moment at the Marine service medals his father had pinned on the inside cover, he finally cleared his throat a little awkwardly and flipped to Eilís' page.

"Let's see… Well, now would you look at that!"

"What?" Liz asks surprised at his sudden exclamation.

"Dad put you between an ugly giant bloodsucker thingy and humanoid spider called _Arachne_. Though luck Blondie." Dean chuckled at her before he grew serious again.

Squinting at the page in the dark, he finally continued, "He writes that while you're allergic to most materials that are meant to ward off monsters, they're not fatal to you. And cream's supposed to have some sort of weird effect on you, not sure if I wanna know the details… But it doesn't say anything about what you could be."

Wetting his lips, Dean chanced a look at Liz's face only to find her smiling very softly at him. Quickly turning back to once again search the written lines seemed like the safer option. Especially since Dean couldn't help but suspect that this wasn't about her at all.

"It says here that you're by far the weirdest thing he ever met. And that you apparently turned on your own kind instead of preying on humans."

"John Winchester disliked me quite a bit" Liz suddenly put forth with a note of surprising dry nonchalance. It seemed eerily similar to the kind Bobby used to color his voice with, yet not quite as bitter. Maybe it was due to her British accent, but it actually helped with keeping her and the salvage yard owner apart. Except that the voice was still male and she very much not so.

Oblivious to his train of thoughts, she continued, "But I learned to respect his ways. I was very sorry when Robert and he fought because of the trouble I had gotten myself into. John was a good man, an even better hunter… Did you know that he antagonized me just like you did when Robert first introduced me to him?"

Dean tensed at her words, believing for a second that she expected him to apologize now.

Instead Liz actually surprised him yet again when she suddenly stood to stretch her arms above her head. She looked so laughably ordinary right then, outlined by the porch light of the house. He didn't even bother to acknowledge that the female creature had just helped him get in touch with his suppressed feelings.

Finally looking back at him with a grin, Liz said with that odd deep voice, "I will never manipulate you into trusting me, Dean Winchester, but I hope we'll be able to part in peace. Until then I will try to make up for my unwelcome presence by helping you lot where I can, if that sounds agreeable to you?"

The silence after her words lasted long enough to make her feel self-conscious, but just when Liz' hesitation started to show on her face, Dean gave in.

"Just because you don't harm humans doesn't mean that I like you any better."

His words earned him a soft huff that sounded just like a softer version of Bobby's grunt.

"And I think I do like you, Dean" Liz easily shared, perfectly oblivious to the face the older Winchester made behind her back. "And if it helps, I believe Robert's pot roast should be finished by now. The other two are waiting for you to join them… They told me to inform you that they'll come searching for you if you don't show yer ugly mug."

"Why do you call him Robert anyway?"

She actually seemed surprised that he asked, "I wasn't aware he preferred to be called otherwise."

Slowly coming to stand beside her, Dean shook his head before taking a shaky step towards the lights of the house. It took him however a moment to notice that she made no move to follow him.

"You comin'?" Dean wondered and it was hard to tell who was more caught off guard about the underlying message of his question. He again blamed the now empty bottle in his grip for the strange tolerance he had just shown her.

Liz however quickly recovered, already putting on her annoyingly sunny smile just as Bobby's voice bellowed from across the scrapyard, "Boy, get your ass inside, like pronto! And don't you dare show up without the other idjit!"

* * *

 **macchar** /'matshaa(r)/ _n._ shortened form of machchhar, which translates as mosquito and is sometimes used as an affectionate pet name for thin or small people [Hindi] — it's what Kali calls Liz at the beginning of the chapter

* * *

 **Author's note:** So this chapter turned out far longer than I originally expected, but I absolutely had to include Jody – for those of you who're wondering: while it wasn't mentioned when she lost her son Owen, this scene is set after his death and of course before the dead rise in Sioux Falls in a later season.

While the series skipped the week at Bobby's, I wanted to show some glimpses on how the brothers deal with loosing their father while at the same time not making things too gloomy.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the update and thanks to everyone who favored and followed. I promise that Gabriel's going to make an appearance in the next chapter.


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter 3** : Around noon on August 16th, 2006

* * *

– _June 29th, 1994_

 _»I never expected that the day would come when I'd actually think twice about harming a supernatural being. Then again, the possibility of parting with one of those creatures in peace never really crossed my mind before. I somehow doubt that the other hunters would even consider such an option.«_

 _»When hunting, one rarely stops to ask questions — well, unless there is some sort of unresolved hostage situation.«_

 _»The only explanation I can think of is that monsters only catch our attention when they earn themselves a reputation bad enough to warrant their death. No one cares about those who just crawl out into the open as long as they stay out of trouble and mind their own business.«_

 _»But supernaturals who go after their own kind? That sounds more like a bedtime story for kids; something that's just too good to be true. And I for one have witnessed far too much evil to believe that there might be something out there to even try and counterweight all of that — apart from us hunters, that is.«_

 _»However, if there is anything even remotely close to 'good' —or more like a gray thing in-between— I'd say it's Elizabeth Greene. She ain't the kind of girl I'd allow anywhere near my boys, but what I did to her just wasn't right. I should have told her about that plan before it almost got her killed. Especially after everything she did in order to help me with the case, and the pointers she gave me for tracking demons. It would have been the right thing to do. And yet, in the end, I just couldn't resist the temptation; the opportunity to literally kill two birds with one stone.«_

 _»So, I set the trap for the water spirit and used her as bait, knowing that she probably wouldn't make it. Just like how she knew from the very beginning what I actually planned to do. She just went along with it to make sure nobody else got hurt.«_

 _»Just what kind of supernatural creature would care about that?«_

 _»Because, to be honest, I still have not even the slightest clue just_ _ **what**_ _she is. Like her British accent hints, she has this weird reaction all creatures from the Isles have to cream and she's definitely allergic to most materials that ward of monsters, although they aren't fatal to her. If there is such a thing as 'her kind' though, it's definitely by far the weirdest sort I've ever met.«_

— John Winchester, the unedited journal entry on Eilís from the summer of 1994

* * *

Apparently, there was no further need for subtlety once you became the ruler of your very own underworld realm, or so it would seem. But then again, Hel had never quite understood why everyone felt so inclined to pussyfoot around each other all of the time. Especially humans. After all, one could only judge so many mortal souls before the unreasonable amount of missed opportunities started to give you a serious migraine.

Similar to this stupid and _ongoing_ fight between Eilís and Loki.

Of course, some had argued that it was about time for those two troublemakers to eventually tire of frolicking around the world — tricking gods, spirits and humans alike. There might have actually been some more serious attempts during the last century to properly discourage them from ever doing _this_ or _that_ again. (Especially _that_ , if the Asian fraction had any say in this matter.)

Hel herself had been on the receiving end of their pranks more times than she cared, but _this_ —this _'not talking, no longer smiling'_ thing— certainly wasn't the kind of compromise she'd been hoping for. Not to mention that the Norse goddess had absolutely no desire to drag her surrogate father's ass out of all those sketchy situations that her little sister would usually just ward off with that ridiculous charm of hers.

So... _Yes_ , Hel might secretly consider Eilís to be the most adorable thing in the whole universe.

Another —decidedly more reluctant— _yes_ to admitting that it was probably about time for Loki's youngest foundling to finally find a place of her own.

And _yes_ , Hel did realize that she might have never truly appreciated Eilís' efforts to keep the Trickster in line so far.

She did feel bad about that. Especially because now —with her baby sister gone— it was her who had to put up with the Loki's crap 24/7.

And Hel really didn't have the time for this.

Or the patience.

Or the necessary sensitivity...

The only thing she knew for sure was that it drove her positively insane. So, when one thing led to another, Hel ended up making this rather dramatic entrance in the middle of Sioux Falls, South Dakota — tearing through time and space with enough force to set off several car alarms within a one-mile radius.

It was rather satisfying to see the patrons of a nearby coffee shop peer out from under their sunshades to search for the cause; their eyes blindly dismissing the casually dressed business woman who now purposefully strode past them. If anyone did glance her way, they did so because the pitch-black hair of her vessel trailed behind her as if it was made of shadow itself.

Eilís had insisted that she'd leave it like that because it would help with her _street cred_ _,_ or whatever she'd called it. Similarly to how Hel had kept this vessel for far longer than their kind deemed appropriate only to appease the Irish being. Her sister had grown strangely fond of it. (And also, because the memory of how Eilís had just kept nudging and frowning at Loki for months after he had helped himself to a new look was still fresh on her mind.)

Refocusing on the clicking sound of her heels, Hel simply ignored the susurrus caused by the startled souls around her. She knew from experience that it wouldn't take those mortals too long before they'd get back to their iced coffees and post lunch break espressos; making up silly scenarios to explain the inexplicable.

The gentle buzz of her phone however prompted the goddess to save the mockery as she flipped it open to find the confirmation of one of her assistants.

SCHEDULE CLEARED; NEXT APPT IN 43 MIN VESTMANNA, FØROYAR

That left her with less than three-quarters of an hour to make sure that the blond figure sitting at one of the furthest tables of the coffee shop would take Loki off her hands once again. A task she deemed doable.

Without even bothering to apply any common form of civility, Hel just slipped into the seat opposite of Eilís — taking one glance at her before getting straight to the point, "Dad's been asking what you're up to."

Judging by the slight inclination of her head, Eilís wasn't all that surprised to see the ruler of the Norse afterworld. She must have sensed her then; probably even before the car alarms tipped her off. After all Hel had also used their bond as sworn sisters to locate her current whereabouts.

"I told him that —last I knew— you were staying with that pompous Greek _skitstövel_."

Eilís' prompt and rather involuntary reply was to inelegantly snort through the straw of her drink — the traitorous bubbles causing some cheerful clinking amongst ice cubes of her iced tea.

In Eilís' defense, it wasn't very often that Hel actually resorted to one of the very few swearwords in her vocabulary. And it most certainly didn't help that the dark-haired goddess steadfastly refused to update them as the centuries went by. Yet, despite the absurdity of hearing such words out of a death goddess' mouth, the blonde didn't feel like teasing her for it. Especially because the _pompous Greek skitstövel_ happened to be a bit of a sore topic for the two of them.

After one last sip, Eilís finally set down her glass; her now free hands swiftly moving in the line of Hel's piercing glare.

 _'I have to admit that cashing in those seven souls just seconds before the centenary evaluation was a bit underhanded of him... But don't you think that this strange competition of yours is getting slightly out of hand?'_

"Hades only beat me because of that oh so convenient bus accident! Tourists always mess up my statistics" Hel hissed without even attempting to lower her volume, causing some of the humans to turn and stare at her.

Just one look from the Norse goddess and their conversation became private once again. There was just something about the truth of death whispering from the depth of Hel's bottomless eyes that made others perfectly uncomfortable.

Stupid mortals.

Of course, Hel knew how the two of them looked like together. One had to be blind to not immediately notice the stark contrast between them. Eilís radiated gold, warmth and cheerfulness — while Hel was a shadow to her light; rough and alien to most human emotions. And yet, Loki had always referred to both of them as his favorite girls. Even after Hel had signed up with Death and her little sister became the Trickster's favorite travel companion.

If it weren't for her apathetic nature, Hel might have begrudged the two of them the freedom they shared just between themselves. Sometimes it felt like they had developed their own language — made of knowing looks, small gestures and the affectionate consideration of each other's quirks. They just _clicked_. Always had.

After all, their adventurous nature wasn't necessarily born out of Loki's whims. What really pushed them was Eilís' constant need to keep moving — a notion so unlike their kind.

 _ **»**_ _ **Envying the youthful spirit of others doesn't suit you, sweets**_ _ **«**_ Loki had gently admonished Hel when she'd first mentioned it to him. And it was true that —although Eilís belonged to the last batch born from old magia— her years hardly stretched over a fifth of the time Hel had spent slipping through the realms of this world.

In the end, however, it still didn't change the fact that Hel had long ago decided that Eilís just burned a bit too bright for a being designed to face eternity; her appetite for _life_ easily rivaling Loki's sweet tooth.

Even right then her sister had to practically tear her eyes away from the everyday buzz of those boring creatures. When she met Hel's dark gaze with the familiar twitch of her button nose, the dark-haired goddess knew that they had finished dancing around the actual subject for her visit.

 _'How long do you think before he comes to find me?'_

"If he's not in the mood to annoy someone else for a change, I'd say about a couple of days" the goddess offered, crossing both her arms and legs when a waitress neared their desk — Eilís pointing on something she wanted from the menu.

Hel's eyes meanwhile wandered to the elegant watch on her own wrist — a befittingly simple black design with a face of svabite; a mineral that could be found in Sweden and fluoresced beautifully in the presence of unattached souls. The timepiece was specifically designed to remind Hel that she was actually supposed to have a break every once in a while. It also happened to be a present from the person who now grinned at her with those ridiculous dimples on her face again. Hel sighed.

She could probably stay a bit longer. She still had 33 minutes before her presence was required on the Faeroe Islands.

"Here's your cake, as per request with extra sprinkles and cream" the waitress announced as she returned to place a pink heap in front of Eilís. Her sister actually bothered to thank the awfully plain human thing with a bright smile before she casually pushed the plate towards Hel.

The ruler of the Norse underworld only raised her dark browns at the blonde who now comfortably leaned forward with her chin propped on one hand; her smirk just as sugary as the slice of cake — which probably consisted to 90% of just icing.

"Why are you bribing me?"

 _'Why is it that you always assume the worst?'_

"Would you prefer me to list the reasons alphabetically or rather in chronological order?" Hel asked dryly, one finger toying with the handle of the fork.

Eilís just rolled her eyes at such dramatics before pointing out, _'You look like you could use an actual break.'_

Reluctantly Hel lifted the small fork, cautiously digging it into the soft pink cream. Glancing one last time at Eilís, she lowly threatened, "Not a single word to anyone" before taking the first bite.

The instant sugar rush through her vessel's system felt like a wonderful dose of magia — strong, addictive and so very sweet. However, thanks to this distraction Hel failed to notice how the expression of Eilís' eyes turned just that much softer and maybe a tad bit sad.

Blinking once, Hel remembered to inquire, "How is your research going? Did you find anything?"

 _'Just some amusing anecdotes that have been hilariously misinterpreted by the authors.'_

"So why stay?" Hel inquired, leveling a curious look at her sister. "Did you take the mortal as your lover?"

Although the goddess failed to see the humor in her last question, her little sister actually chocked a bit on her iced tea.

Correctly interpreting Eilís reaction as a ' _no_ ', Hel quickly moved on to the next question, "If he isn't your lover then why don't you find someone else to aid you with the research? Someone who won't just snap like a twig when dad finally tracks you down. You know he doesn't like you getting close to humans... a hunter no less."

The thought of Loki harming her mortal apparently hadn't crossed Eilís mind until the goddess pointed it out — if the frown now marring her face served as an indication.

"I'm sure he wouldn't kill him, but it might be better if you just said your goodbyes. Sooner, rather than later" Hel advised, feeling not the slightest bit guilty about pushing Eilís to part with her little friend.

She wouldn't allow her sister to hurt like that again. Not after what had happened the last time she foolishly trusted one of those pathetic creatures.

Having finished her cake in record time, the Norse goddess carefully wiped her face to make sure that nothing would betray her own penchant for sugar. No-one should ever be able to say that she took after her surrogate father in this regard. Or _any_ regard for that matter.

 _'They are good people_ ' Liz argued with her fingers twitching protectively.

Suddenly the goddess's eyes sharpened on Eilís, the pleasant warmth of her sugar high easily replaced with apprehension, " _They_? You're staying with more than just the one of their sort?"

 _'They will help me find answers.'_

A soft breeze carelessly tugged on some strands of Hel's jet-black hair to reveal that her perfectly controlled expression finally started to crack.

"For all this time you were content with the place given to you. Why did you suddenly decide to seek answers now?" The goddess' voice still seemed carefully detached despite her obvious irritation. "If this search for a family should be your way of telling us that we are no longer enough for you, I'd rather you'd be frank with me. I do not care for being strung along just to prove a point, Eilís."

Hel's words had obviously caught her sister off guard, yet the deity couldn't find it in herself to take off their edge. She wasn't someone who cared easily and sometimes she wished that she'd lost said ability a long time ago. It just didn't suit someone like her.

 _'Why would I need a second family when I've got my hands full dealing with just one?'_

On any other day Hel would have gladly pointed out that Eilís was just as troublesome as the rest of their odd bunch — if not more. Today, however, the goddess left it at a decidedly unamused look which then prompted Eilís to pacify Hel with a few more hand signs, _'You know that I wouldn't trade you for anything in the world.'_

"Is that so?"

Innocently widening her eyes —in a way that put Loki's usual attempts to shame— Eilís cheekily added, _'You will always be my sister_ _—_ _just like Fenny will always be a good boy.'_

With a scoff Hel thought of how their brother Fenrir did indeed permit Eilís to coo at him just like humans felt inclined to do when dealing with their ridiculously overbred canine companions. But then again, she wasn't in the position to judge the great Fenris-wolf for humoring the littlest family member.

After all, they were all strangely indulgent to their ugly duckling – Loki's words, not hers.

But now that they had broached the subject, Eilís finally felt brave enough to ask about what had been bugging her ever since the first wave of Hel's numbing magia had startled her out of her thoughts.

 _'How is he?'_

And there it was.

The one question Hel had dreaded as much as she'd expected it. After all it wasn't like Eilís could actually stay properly mad with Loki for longer periods of time.

"He has proven to be even more of nuisance without you around" Hel admitted — both of them aware that the Norse goddess couldn't help the fondness for her father figure, regardless of how often she complained about his many quirks.

Pushing some of her long strands behind her shoulder, the goddess sighed briefly, "Since I couldn't help but notice that you didn't turn up, I made the connection even before the news of your... _split-up_ spread across the realms."

While Eilís still couldn't quite decide how to react, Hel already moved on.

"I think I get the idea. Loki messed up, didn't he?" Hel plainly stated, her eyes refusing to leave Eilís heart shaped face. "He has done it before, but you've always forgiven him. Only that this time it couldn't be fixed by him snapping his fingers... So, he must have done something that made you question your unwavering trust in him."

It wasn't a question; more like a carefully brief deduction. And it wouldn't have been Hel laying it out if she hadn't at least pointed out one uncomfortable truth of which the listener would rather not be reminded of.

Just because the goddess found emotions more often confusing than enlightening, she wasn't necessarily blind to them. Her analyses were always based on what she saw and after Loki had practically forced her to put up with his antics for the last couple of months, she only wanted confirmation.

"So?"

With one shuddering breath Eilís leant back in her seat, her finger running over the frayed seam of her big coat. _'It's more like we decided to take a small break from one another. He... he kept something important from me and I, in turn, might have fussed over details he considered trivial.'_

"And those _trivialities_ weren't by any chance… humans?" Hel almost spit out the last word, locking her frown with Eilís equally disapproving stare. "You do that quite a lot. Whatever did they do to deserve such devotion?"

 _'It's our job to care for them.'_

Hel shook our head, "No, Eilís. Our job is to ensure the natural order of things — and to find new ways in order survive the emancipation of human beliefs. If those mortals you so love won't soon wake up, we will all be rendered extinct."

If the mention of the Trickster had saddened her little sister, the sudden turn of the conversation now visibly upset Eilís — the gold in her eyes sparkling with a harsh mixture of disappointment and anger. It caused Hel to realize that maybe it wasn't the smartest choice to challenge her little sister when all she wanted was to send her back to Loki and the safety he provided.

After all, the goddess always felt greatly at loss when Eilís was hurting. She knew how to treat physical wounds — emotional pain on the other hand was something so awkwardly foreign to her. Like a strange mannerism that happened to be both so very bizarre and at the same time strangely fascinating.

Just when the goddess' mind finally suggested to do something except staring, her phone buzzed.

REMINDER: NEXT APPT IN 5 MIN VESTMANNA, FØROYAR

"I have to leave" Hel announced with her usual clipped tone, her expression now clearly unhappy as she flipped her cell shut again.

Once she stood, a pair of warm arms wrapped themselves tightly around Hel's taller frame; the feeling of Eilís cozy magia leaving a slightly tingling sensations on her cooler skin. It served as a constant reminder that her little sister wasn't quite like anyone else — not that it had ever truly bothered Hel.

After all of this was so uniquely _**Eilís**_ that the Norse goddess would always be able to take some comfort in it. Even if she always missed the right moment to hug her little sister back.

So, in the end, only her raspy voice showed an unusual soft quality when Hel whispered, "Stay brave, lítlasystir."

* * *

For one reason or another Bobby found himself standing on the stairs of his front porch when the boys started loading up the minivan — a cool beer in his hand and his watchful eyes on Dean.

Taking another sip from the bottle, the old hunter thought to himself that —albeit Liz' plan had failed somewhat spectacularly a few days ago— she'd been right about at least one thing.

While Sam seemed to be about as optimistic as one could be under the given circumstances, Dean had just opted to bottle it all up. And by now the question wasn't so much about _whether_ the boy would explode — it was actually the _when_ that worried Bobby. By the looks of it, this time it sure promised to be ugly and the old hunter felt somewhat guilty for leaving Sam to deal with the aftermath.

"We'll ditch this fucking monstrosity first chance we get!"

Oh right, and then there was _that_ _._

Narrowing his eyes at the older one, Bobby growled, "You better be shining with gratitude when you drive off with my car, Dean, or next time you'll be sure to walk to the next car rental. Just suck it up, princess!"

"Why even bother with this pile of junk in the first place? 'bet it would be better off in pieces" Dean complained more or less unfazed by Bobby's threats. Maybe because he was still too busy glaring at the brown striped minivan with distaste written all over his face. It seemed almost like the vehicle had somehow managed to personally offend him.

Already tasting the retort on his tongue, Bobby suddenly got distracted by the sight of his other house guest walking up the driveway.

When Liz had disappeared earlier that morning, Bobby almost expected her to be gone for at least a couple of weeks. One second, she had just stood in front of their research pin board and the next moment had her dressed in one of his old coats with a comment about needing some fresh air dancing around her fingers.

Now, eight hours later, Liz returned with a strangely thoughtful expression and... a bunch of radishes. Bobby wasn't quite sure which of the two additions on her actually did strike him as the odder one.

"Hey!" Dean called, seemingly unsure of what to make of her sullen mood either. "Where've you been all day?"

Blinking at the older Winchester, Liz actually considered his question for a moment as if she weren't too sure herself. Then she titled her to one side.

"She's been in town" Bobby translated the one-handed signs the Irishwoman offered them.

Vegetables dangling off her arm like a strange additional limb, Liz reached with her free hand to touch the minivan.

This time the old hunter directly answered her instead of relaying her words to the boys, "Yeah, guys are leaving for a couple of days."

For a short moment the blonde seemed to be at a loss for what to do, so she just stood there, pale hair loosely tucked in a knot at the base of her neck; Bobby's old coat still hanging of her shoulders like a rag.

This time it was apparently Dean's turn to exchange a long look with the salvage yard owner before he decided to do something about their glum little Miss Sunshine. Of course, he didn't actually plan to cheer her up. It was only because her odd mood was strangely suspicious.

"Listen here, blondie" Dean planted himself in front of her. "We'll be back in no time so don't you get any funny ideas! If even one hair on Bobby's balding head should be missing, I will hunt you down — you got that?"

Behind their backs Sam and Bobby exchanged exasperated looks; the later taking a huge gulp of his beer to flush down any comment on that.

Ever since they had been too tired to move after reducing Bobby's proud pot roast to ruins a few days earlier, there had been this strange truce between all of them — with Liz acting as its greatest defender. Whenever there was the need for her to play peacemaker she would try and lighten up the mood. Similar to how she had learned when to best give them some much needed space.

All in all, she'd been handling it pretty well despite the fact that their research still hadn't offered them even a single clue. Liz of course kept smiling — if only to annoy Dean. She apparently just couldn't help it and Bobby had to admit that it was surprisingly effective. But then again, she happened to be a supernatural being who, in her long lifetime, had probably learned how to cope with throwbacks. Even if she chose to do it by provoking the one hunter in her immediate vicinity who would be more than happy to point a gun at her.

"Bobby, what's she sayin'?" Dean pulled Bobby out from his thoughts, his voice sounding borderline annoyed. From behind him a now gleeful Liz peeking out to send the older hunter a cheeky grin.

"She mentioned something about ordering things for your car. The spare parts you need to finish the repairs on the Impala, I'd guess" Sam helpfully provided after hefting their last bag into the trunk. He had noticed that Bobby wasn't really paying that much attention whenever they started bickering.

The surprise on Liz face however caused the younger Winchester to chuckle good-naturedly, "Thanks by the way, Liz. I just hope it wasn't too much trouble. And yes, I do understand some hand signs. I took a course at Stanford for my quota in humanities classes."

At first Dean squinted at his brother with his mouth already opening as if he had just thought of a smart comment he could make about his brother's reasons for picking such nerdy classes — but then, he instead turned to the blond Irishwoman with something akin to confusion in his eyes.

"Who asked you to order–" but he cut himself off because he once again noticed Liz tapping her fingers on the hood of the minivan. Only that she wasn't so much tapping but scratching instead. With one of her fingernails. "Hey creepy smiles! Mind explainin' just what the hell you think you're doing there?"

Just like during their memorable first encounter, Liz simply chose to ignore Dean's rude tone and instead bent down to gently blow on the strange symbols.

At first nothing happened. Dean almost dared to breathe again, when suddenly, without a warning, the van just shed its rusty exterior in an explosion of dust — creating a cloud of flying iron particles that glittered like fairy dust in the sun.

"What the–"

When Liz turned to Dean, there was a strangely peaceful look about her. A soft glow clinging to her human form before it eventually settled in her eyes; illuminating those small golden spatters in that odd mixture of greens.

Swallowing uncomfortably, Dean tore his gaze away and—

"Hooly shit!" he exclaimed when suddenly there was this sleek and upgraded version of the minivan standing right in front of them; the rust-heap from mere seconds ago gone and replaced by a new model.

It was like seeing the result of some sort of strange metamorphosis; as if this —admittedly less conspicuous— black design had been hidden beneath all that rust from the very beginning.

"Well, this might actually be useful" Dean admitted eventually before taking one step forward to touch the shiny dark metal like one might prod an electric fence in a game of dare. "Sweet... So, you can go around magicking stuff without any of that nasty witch crap?"

Encouraged by Dean's surprisingly positive train of thoughts, Liz easily complied with a simple nod.

"It's one of her glamour spells" Bobby supplied, stepping closer to run a finger along the frame of the right-side mirror. When Dean just stared at him, the hunter shrugged, "What'd ya expect, Dean? It's not like Liz's usually that shy about usin' her powers."

The implication behind those words caused Dean's jaw to clench — the _'Maybe she just doesn't want you pointing a gun at her whenever she so much as snaps her fingers' —_ left hanging unsaid in the air.

With some exasperation Liz raised a finger to touch her own throat in question and when Bobby slowly nodded, she turned to Dean with raised brows and the salvage yard owner's snark on her tongue.

"Just so you know, the first time I used my magia around Robert here, he couldn't even look me in the eye for about a week" the male voice out of her mouth got even Sam staring. Liz however quickly continued, "But that might have been because he made the most adorable little _eeek_ sound, you know, as if he'd actually choked a bit on his shriek—" the string of words suddenly broke off when Bobby flicked some of the iron dust in Liz direction to shut her up.

While both Sam and Dean didn't bother to hide their growing smirks, Bobby ignored Liz' allergic sneezing fit in favor of noisily clearing his throat — almost as if he had to fit his own voice back in there before he could growl, "Just hit the road, will ya?"

Chuckling to himself Dean pulled the keys from his pocket and called after the now retreating form of the salvage yard owner, "Come on, Bobby, I don't believe that Liz was able to do you justice there. Surely you could squeak louder than that?"

Bobby didn't even bother looking over his shoulder when he called from the open front door, "How 'bout we find out what sound you will make when I finally strangle you, you idjit! And don't you dare return without my van!"

* * *

They did ditch the van two days later somewhere outside of Medford, Wisconsin. It was strange how this seemingly insignificant incident coincided with the very moment Dean had finally snapped.

Now, with his phone still clutched in one hand after he had called Ellen, Sam returned to where his brother waited for him with their bags; the license plates of Bobby's minivan carelessly sticking out of one of them.

Altogether it certainly didn't look like much — this gruff older brother looking a bit misplaced on this rural road with his arms crossed and the shapeless heap of their father's old army duffels to his feet.

To Sam, however, it was one of the things he'd always fight for — even if Dean's earlier words about Sam's efforts to keep their family together being _'too little and too late'_ still replayed inside his head.

Hoping to break the tense silence between them, Sam finally baited his brother with only one word.

" _Rakshasa_."

Right on cue, Dean scrunched up his face. "What's that?"

"Ellen's best guess" Sam shrugged, relieved that it had worked. "It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures. They appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited."

"One more thing for Bobby's pet monster to cross of her list then" Dean muttered humorlessly under his breath, shifting a little in his stance before he addressed the problem at hand, "So they dress up like clowns, and the children invite them in..."

"Yeah."

Playing it through inside his mind, Dean finally questioned, "Why don't they just munch on the kids?"

"No idea" Sam admitted, looking slightly uncomfortable about his only suggestion, "Not enough meat on the bones, maybe?"

Not one to dwell on the finer points of the monster's diets, Dean quickly moved on to his next question.

"What else'd you find out?"

As things turned out, they were all set for their hunt — knowing what to look for, whom to suspect and how to take care of _him_ — if they were indeed right about their hunch.

Yet, for some reason Dean found himself picking up his own phone once they had made it back into town.

It was safe to say that Bobby wasn't all that impressed with their decision to ditch the minivan. But at least the salvage yard owner finally suggested that they'd find themselves a dagger made of pure brass once he'd finished his rant.

"Yeah, Ellen mentioned something like that to Sam" Dean agreed, still glad to have the second opinion of someone he trusted.

There was a moment of silence on the other end. _"Ellen? Ellen Harvelle? ...You working with her now?"_

"You know Ellen?"

 _"Don't sound too surprised, boy. The roadhouse ain't exactly a hush-hush location–"_ suddenly Bobby broke off in the middle of the sentence and immediately Dean felt something tighten uncomfortably in his stomach before... _"–They're just dealing with a Rakshasa. Nothing the boys can't handle, Liz."_

Thanks to the relief flooding his system Dean thought he might as well humor the odd pair of research partners, "Crazy pants got any suggestions?"

After another moment of silence, he could hear Bobby's scoff crackling through the connection, _"Yeah, how about you guys just use that brass dagger. The alternative really ain't worth the mass destruction."_

"Mass destruction?" Dean pressed with a frown.

 _"Just keep in mind that —should the brass dagger not work on that bastard— you'll have to somehow get a hold of an ancient weapon called Brahmastra... which does apparently make meteors rain."_

Despite his firm resolution to call bullshit on anything that came out of Liz mouth —or, as in her case: _the tips of her fingers_ — Dean couldn't help the twitch of his lips. He had asked, after all.

"Well, good to know that we've got a backup plan."

* * *

It was nearing two in the morning when Bobby realized that something about Liz' behavior the last two days truly bothered him — still did, as a matter of fact. Otherwise he might have actually gotten an early night like Liz had suggested over dinner — instead of lying awake for hours to mull it all over, anyway.

There was just this last shred of doubt that always reared its ugly head whenever he felt that the Irishwoman was keeping something from him. Even years of friendship —formed thanks to an impressive number of successful hunts and countless afternoons spent just drinking tea— had not been able to change that.

Eilís was no more a _hunter_ than he'd ever be able to go back from becoming one. Not much to change about that. But still...

Bobby had already reached the landing of the stairs that would lead him downstairs before he even fully realized just what he was about to do.

From where he stood —berating himself for even getting up— he could see the soft light pouring from the living room and he could hear something being stirred.

She must have gotten herself a refill of tea. Again.

Inwardly sighing, Bobby contemplated returning to bed to see if he'd be able to sleep now.

A moment later, though, he made his way downstairs. After all, the thought of asking Liz to kindly fix him another cup suddenly sounded much more appealing than helping himself to some liquor.

Only that his request somehow stranded on his tongue when he reached the bottom of the stairs and finally caught sight of Liz kneeling on his living room floor — eyes impossibly wide at the sight of him, fingers covered in blood and a half-finished sigil shining on the floor boards before her.

They stared at each other for quite a bit, both frozen in shock. Soon, however, he found himself fighting the urge to interfere whatever was happening over there, whereas Liz still looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

Yet, instead of immediately accusing her, or maybe inquiring just _WHAT THE HELL_ she thought she was doing to his living room floor, Bobby took a deep breath and slowly moved to the outer circle of the sigil.

With one glance at the huge maze of symbols, which Liz had apparently drawn in her own blood, he could tell that the few runes he recognized were all meant to be used for protection. Noticing the spoon, she'd used to mix some ground herbs into the dark red concoction in the bowl sitting beside her, he now knew where the stirring sound had come from.

With a long-suffering sigh, Bobby crouched down to be on eye level with the blond supernatural, grumbling a bit before eventually asking, "Expecting someone?"

Finally sitting back with a sigh, Liz rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand, _'I'll explain everything, just... let me get cleaned up, alright?'_

When Liz returned from the kitchen, Bobby continued to regard her design with a strangely professional gleam in his eyes. Upon her return, Liz noticed with some surprise that Bobby had been able to resist instinctively arming himself.

She was under no illusion that he trusted her _that_ much. No hunter ever would after finding her in this kind of situation.

A second later Bobby flinched when he received a message on his phone. Looking up from his position he saw that Liz now sat cross-legged on the opposite side of the still shining sigil — her own cell in her hand.

 _It'll be easier this way,_

 _I don't know how to_

 _express half of it in signs._

 _So just to be clear,_

 _THIS is meant for_

 _your protection._

– _Liz_

Thinking to himself that this was as strange as it could get —sitting around a freshly drawn blood sigil, exchanging SMS— Bobby lowered his phone.

"Not that I don't appreciate the thought, Liz, but what's this truly about?"

He couldn't tell for sure whether it was actually such a good thing that she started chewing her lip whilst typing her reply.

 _I might have to leave for_

 _a while so I wanted to take_

 _the necessary precautions_

 _in case I missed something._

 _Are you very mad?_

"No, but I might be if ya keep stallin', dear" Bobby warned her without sounding like he'd make good on his threat. Instead his eyes lingered on the strange dark lines on her pale arms he had failed to notice before. They almost looked like whip bruises, only that were of a smoky black quality. "Wanna tell me what happened there?"

Instead of answering his question, Liz kept insistently tapping on the sigil before her — just as the next text appeared on the screen of Bobby's cell.

 _This is a veldismagn, an_

 _Icelandic rune used for_

 _protection and I turned it_

 _into an anchor of sorts._

"Liz."

 _I buried seven rowan wood_

 _chips –carved with more runes–_

 _in two counter-rotating circles_

 _around the house so that_

 _they'd snap in. I also made a_

 _map for them, so you could check._

 _I just have to finish this so that_

 _the circles will properly replenish_

 _themselves with energy._

"Liz, I ain't mad. Listen, how 'bout you put that away for just a second?"

 _Little should get past it,_

 _I even planted some flowers_

 _that will enforce the magia_

 _of the runes and they–_

Before she could finish the next message, Bobby gently pulled the phone out of her hands — even if his face clearly showed the exasperation he hadn't allowed to affect his actions.

"Those dark lines on your arms. Explain, now."

 _'I am allergic to the wood I worked with'_ Liz finally offered sheepishly, tracing one of the black lines on her skin before again lifting her hands, _'It's something I can't heal well with only my own power.'_

"Alright, listen here, you goofball! I don't know what's gotten into you, but if you don't suck it up like a big girl next time and ask me for help, I can promise you that I'll be damn mad with a damned good reason. But first things first – There'll be no more secret monster-proofing jobs without me knowing. Are we clear on that?"

A very tiny smile braved the worried expression on Liz face now, although she once again seemed to be at a loss of what to do next. She looked like she might hug him any second, so Bobby put a firm stop to whatever might come his way with a wave of his hand.

Never having been one to know how to deal with this stuff properly, Bobby got to his feet and produced two glasses which he then filled with liquor just strong enough to make this easier on him. He wasn't sure whether Liz could even get drunk, but he still felt like showing her some manners. Even if she was clearly testing the boundaries applying to her role of a visitor in this house.

Handing her the few inches of dark liquid, he settled on the couch, "Why don't you finish what you started, put the glamour spell on it —which I'm sure you were planning to later use for hiding the sigil from me, you brat— and tell me what's really going on here, Liz. Because, believe it or not, I didn't spend all those nights researching European spirits just for kicks. I want to help you, stupid."

So, she did just that. And if they ended up spending the remainder of the night putting up more wards around the house instead of actually getting any deeper into it than _'My fed-up sister may have searched for me so that I'll make up with her surrogate father figure and take him off her hands'_ well, that's just how things turned out.

* * *

After they jacked some random car a day later, the brothers arrived just in time for dinner at Bobby's.

As they made their way towards the invitingly glowing lights of the house, the first thing they noticed were the odd flowers planted here and there. Some bright and colorful, others looking more like someone had picked them up on the side of a road.

It was something Dean chose to comment with a heartfelt "What the actual fuck?" while Sam could at least classify carnations, marigold and… the one near the shed did look a bit like common rue, maybe?

Sufficiently bewildered by Bobby's newest hobby, the brothers turned around a corner in the maze of car wrecks only to stumble upon the amateur gardener himself, who —muttering to himself— fumbled to light a rusted barbecue; a plate with marinated steaks just in reach.

At the sight Dean's mood visibly brightened, "Oh, Bobby. I feel so loved right now."

"Well, Liz will be happy to hear that — was her idea" the old hunter shot back without missing a beat, tossing the lighter aside to give the Winchesters one of his casual once-overs that fooled nobody. Seemingly satisfied that all limbs were still attached, Bobby jerked his thumb towards the cold barbecue coals, "So long as I get this blasted thing started, that is."

Right in this moment a familiar blond head popped out of the open kitchen door, sending the new arrivals a soft smile in greeting — almost as if to defy Dean's own sour expression.

"Liz, could you fetch me some matches or another lighter? This one's just not doing it" Bobby called.

Yet instead of disappearing back inside, Liz fully emerged before carefully treading down the stairs with her bare feet. They watched her carefully tiptoeing around the car parts strewn across the driveway and Bobby opened his mouth to repeat his words just as the Irish being carefully nudged him with her hip so that he'd move out of the way. Ignoring the blatant confusion written over all their faces, Liz casually dropped a handful of fire into the bowl of the barbecue.

Just like that.

Seconds later bright hungry flames started licking the coals whilst casting dancing shadows on all their expressions — highlighting the perfectly relaxed smile on Liz' lips as well as the dumbfounded disbelief on the rest of their faces.

Then, as if she had just made a call or picked up the mail, the blonde returned to happily chop the vegetables in the kitchen.

"No way I'm ever getting used to that" Dean finally swallowed though he couldn't quite hide the awe that now snuck in his voice. "Now this whole _'let's just make meteors rain'_ suggestion makes so much friggin' sense."

Having been quiet for a while now, Sam shouldered his bag. "Some of her abilities sure could come in handy. I bet she knows a lot too."

Bobby would've liked to inform them that she also helped turning the house in a supernatural Fort Knox but decided against it. He still couldn't quite wrap his head around the fact that she'd readily taught him as many sigils in one night as he had scraped together in all his years as a hunter. All it had cost him was one _please_ and the permission for her to key her own magia in the wards so that they'd accept her.

"She making pie too?" Dean suddenly whispered, his eyes fixed on the flour and sugar Liz had just pulled out of a cabinet. Sam couldn't quite tell whether his brother was suspicious of her overhearing them, or if he didn't want Liz to catch the hopeful note in his voice.

Finally able to put the steaks on the roast, Bobby listened to their sizzling for a moment before he chose to point out, "Go inside and grab a beer. She waited for you to arrive before starting that pie, sayin' something about how you might be able to actually eat some this time, if only you were to properly watch her preparing it."

Unsurprisingly, Dean didn't need to be told twice.

While Sam watched how his brother quickly discarded his stuff to grab a beer and take a seat at Bobby's kitchen table, he couldn't help but sigh.

"Don't feel bad if our princess pitched a fit" Bobby muttered quietly, turning the meat without bothering to look up. He didn't need to see the younger Winchester's expression to know the gist of what had happened. "Whatever he said doesn't hold any true weight, Sam. Just don't take it too much to heart. Dean's a good kid, but he guards his own feelings almost as closely as he does with his little brother, so you of all people should give it some time… and maybe a bit more rest. Otherwise you'd both just feel sorry in the end."

Both of them glanced through the kitchen door just in time to see as Dean happily received the mixing bowl Liz had used for the dough. When he eagerly started scraping the rest together, the supernatural apparently couldn't help grinning from one ear to other. It actually took Dean quite a few moments before he eventually caught sight of the mirth dancing in her eyes; prompting the older Winchester to quickly exchange his childish glee for a deep scowl.

"You should also take as much time as you need, Sam" Bobby murmured with a shake of his head. As much as he appreciated that the boys were still sometimes just that — _boys_ — it sure was enough to make him feel old on his best days. "And now... get your stupid ass inside and bring me another beer!"

Later, when they all sat in the cramped kitchen, Liz made sure to hide her smug little smirk. Dean meanwhile pretended to not notice how her mask slipped once or twice. All in all, it was actually the first evening that they spent together without bringing up her nature even once. The brothers of course properly teased Bobby about his new gardening hobby and their bickering only came to an end when Liz finally served them all a huge piece of steaming hot apple pie with ice cream.

And if Dean warned her that he wouldn't shy from kicking her under the table for that annoying smirk of hers, he certainly forgot about it when he happily munched his way through the second piece.

* * *

Later that same night, after all the humans had disappeared upstairs, Liz stood in the living room regarding all the papers and bits of what should have brought them closer to finding out about her true nature. Neither she nor Robert had dared to actually say it out loud, but it had become quite obvious they had reached a dead end.

There was after all only so much research one could do with their impressive, yet still quite limited resources.

 _ **»Dad's been asking what you're up to.«**_

 _D_ _ad…_

Running her finger over a surprisingly accurate family tree of the Irish pantheon, Liz couldn't help but recall bits and pieces of her bleak _childhood_ — the pain numbed with only time and the kindness of others showing her the true meaning of familial bonds.

Sometimes she would catch herself wondering whether there'd ever been a place for her amongst the Tuath Dé, or if her decision to leave with Loki had indeed burned all bridges.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost missed the faint noise coming from outside. _Almost_. But when Liz searched the silence with her senses —hoping that she'd be able to write the rustle off as some confused bird— there was only this sinking feeling in her gut.

Chances were that it turned out to be nothing in the end. But then again, she couldn't quite ignore the possibility that whatever lurked out there might just be strong enough to hide from her perception…

Unable to spot anything from the windows, Liz contemplated alarming the hunters who were still peacefully resting upstairs. Robert would probably be disappointed with her if she didn't try to at least warn him.

But they were safe inside the house. She made sure of that.

Carefully wrapping a cloth around the fire iron, Liz opened the door — a rush of cool summer night's air greeting her before she even stepped outside.

For a second she saw and felt nothing. Just this ominous silence that reminded her of those horror movie sequences just seconds before a jump scare. Dearly hoping this wasn't the case, Liz tightened her hold on the iron, preparing to—

— hear someone snort, apparently.

It seemed to be an involuntary noise; ranging somewhere between obnoxiously loud and downright mocking. Worst part was… Liz _knew_ that sound. In fact, she knew it so _bloody_ well that —without even trying to— she could tell that it was because of her appearance. She was, after all, still dressed in some of Bobby's old clothes. Not to mention that she was wielding a fireplace poker with a grimly determined expression.

By the time Liz's eyes finally sought the dark figure sitting on the balustrade at the other end of the porch, his fingers were already working on the rustling wrapper of a lollipop.

Finally, a glint of gold and amber returned her flat stare.

"Hiya Betsy. Long time no see."

* * *

 **lítlasystir** / 'litlasisti r / _n._ is the Faroese way of saying little sister. Old Norse still has a strong influence on the language of the Faroese Islands, so I chose this for want of a better translation. It's what Hel calls Eilís.

 **magia** / 'm agia / _n._ is the term that's used to describe the power pagan deities and other supernatural beings possess. While angels have their grace, the power humans have given to the different pantheons and beings through their belief will further be referenced to as magia.

 **skitstövel** / skitstøwəll / _n._ an offensive Swedish term to describe a person. Literally means _'shit-boot'_ but is used similarly to asshole, fucker, or bastard.

 **Tuath Dé** / t̪ˠuəhə dʲeː / _n._ is one of the earlier names used for the supernatural race in Irish Mythology — it literally translates as _'tribe of the gods'_ and they are thought to represent the main deities of pre-Christian Gaelic Ireland; thus, the Irish Pantheon.

* * *

 **Author's note** : I am so sorry to have left you hanging for so long – I really do owe you big thanks for your patience, guys! Just know that if I should ever take so long again, you may give me a nudge, kick me – or just throw stuff, seriously.

Anyhoo, you've met Hel at the beginning of this chapter, the Norse goddess of death. She won't be like the version in the spin-off novel _Supernatural: Carved in Flesh_ , if anyone's read that. Hopefully, you won't mind me playing with her role a bit, especially since I haven't found many stories including more than just a side note mention of Loki's supposed children in the Norse mythology. So, I'll make those up as I go. Suggestions or ideas are of course always very welcome!

Since Loki finally made his appearance at the end (I did promise after all), the next chapter will be about a whole bunch of whys, ifs and don'ts for getting involved with the Winchesters.

So, until next time and thank you all for reading! Also, reviews, favorites and follows make my day :)

 **#funfact** : The actress who was used as an inspiration for Liz is Carey Mulligan. Check her out, she's amazing! (Meanwhile the actress I had in mind for Hel is Eva Green. Seems like the right kinda person to pull off the whole _I am the goddess of death and I'm gonna kick Hades' ass during the next centenary soul count_.)


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter 4** : Sometime around noon in Udaipur, India on August 20th, 2006

* * *

 _Eilís / Elizabeth Greene:_

 _» born in Ireland and alleged cuckoo's egg of the Irish pantheon; different from any other supernatural_ _/_ _possibly a demigoddess_ _ *****_ _ **Well,**_ _ **well,**_ _ **ain't she just one special snowflake?**_

 _» her mother left her shortly after Eilís came into existence and the Irish deities locked her away for a couple decades until she was eventually discovered and freed by a foreign god from the Norse pantheon_ _ *****_ _ **Now that's one legit excuse for having this freaky Miss Sunshine thing going on...**_

 _»_ _seems to be immortal_ _ *****_ _ **Pretty sure it should be either**_ _ **/**_ _ **or**_ _ **— how old's she anyway?**_

 _» lost her voice and some of her powers a while back; borrows one if she needs it although she has to ask for permission_ _***Shame there isn't a lost and found for that kinda stuff, huh?**_

 _» ability to create illusions and see through them_ _/_ _fire affinity_ _ *****_ _ **No kidding, she's a friggin' pyro!**_

 _» same reaction most Celtic creatures from the British Isles have to cream_ _ *****_ _ **What reaction? Why's everybody going on and on about this without explaining just what the hell's wrong with those supernatural Brits? She having difficulties with dairy stuffs or what?**_

 _» weaknesses: iron, silver, rowan wood — and Dean, if you read this, save us all the trouble and just_ _accept_ _that none of those materials are actually fatal to her_ _ ***Yeah, blame me for not trusting the fucking monster, Bobby!**_

— a couple of Bobby's notes on Liz, with the some added _'_ _annotations_ _'_ from a considerably drunk Dean

* * *

So, if Gabriel had actually taken this whole witness protection thing a bit more seriously, little Betsy would have been the _very_ last thing on the ultimate list of _D_ _on'ts_.

As in, if there were such a thing as a sigil to summon her, it probably would have been some sort of precursor for the biohazard warning sign.

Or, at least, that's what Gabriel thought when he'd first stumbled upon the Irish oddball all those years ago. After all, one only needed to take a good look at the child to know that she was the kind of trouble everyone avoided at all costs. As if the fact that her so-called family had kept her locked away inside that windowless room wasn't enough of a hint.

… So, naturally, he'd busted her out of there — or _abducted_ her, as those Irish douchebags would later claim.

And ever since then she'd been right there at his side.

… handing out just deserts, exploring exotic places, tricking local gods, knocking idiots off their high horses, playing ding-dong ditch, making sure Hel didn't overdo things by getting her hooked on stupid TV shows, crashing parties, taking in fourteen-year old girls who'd sold their soul to get rid of their abusive parents, doing crosswords, alternating between being the best wingman in existence and then again trying to ruffle his feathers at any given opportunity…

Bets was…

Betsy was the stubborn little shit who always stuck her cute little nose where it clearly didn't belong. Who walked into sketchy bars to politely interrupt the dealings of some mafia head honcho to tell them about how somebody must've left the lights on in their car and that it would be a bloody shame if the battery died because of it.

A being which did not only insist on celebrating birthdays and shopping locally, but also bought the cheesiest family organizer for their _home_ _base_ every year so that they could keep track of each other's activities whenever they spent time apart…

Now Betsy's last calendar entry dated back to the sixteenth of December — the day when she'd scrawled the words _Inverness Cemetery_ right below the disgustingly cheerful message of: _If there was a prize for incredibleness with a sprinkling of awesomeness on top, YOU would so win it!_

Just thinking about it made Gabriel's feathers twitch. He could practically feel his agitated grace grating against the layers of Loki's magia in sheer frustration.

' _Should've just hopped back in time'_ he thought bitterly. _'One teeny-tiny change and I wouldn't have to worry 'bout Tinkerbell wandering about unsupervised when it's_ _ **'all systems go'**_ _in heaven and hell.'_

But for some reason Gabriel hadn't travelled back in time after that meeting in Scotland. Probably the same reason he couldn't bring himself to do so now. Even if the mere thought of just returning things to how they used to be —were _supposed_ to be— couldn't have been more tempting.

Although the idea of tracking down his wayward little oddball to _ground her skinny Irish ass_ certainly had a nice ring to it as well.

And now it was already August and Gabriel was _still_ left checking that damned calendar at least twice a day for a new entry, even when he'd been—

"— so _awfully_ busy carousing around the world with that over-sized piñata of yours!" Kali finished his train of thought for him; her eyes narrowing disapprovingly at the Trickster's candy-filled companion on the settee besides him.

' _Ah, riiight'_ Gabriel sighed inwardly as his gaze swept through the grand reception room of Kali's summer palace, taking in the round cushions, bolsters and hand-woven carpets covering most of the blue stone tiles. _'I_ _ **did**_ _fall for Kali's fake booty prayer.'_

Pursing his lips, Gabriel contemplated how to best get out of this situation — preferably without starting a war, feud or anything equally bothersome. When he noticed that Kali's attention had already shifted, his amber eyes followed her line of vision.

She was still staring at the colorful papier-mâché donkey.

Which, as Gabriel noted a bit belatedly, was sporting a (by now half-eaten) candy bra and a sign around its neck that read: _Betsy 2.0 (the improved version)_

"It was a gift from Xbalanque" he eventually offered instead of commenting on the fact that he was pretty sure that there had been matching panties at one point…

Maybe Bale had pocketed them in exchange for the promise of a private tour of his newly acquired sweets factory. Including but not limited to scantily clad samba dancers from Rio covered in melted chocolate.

"How _very_ thoughtful of him" the goddess deadpanned with _all_ of her arms crossed; her true form slightly blurring with the outlines of her vessel. "Is there anything else you would like to add after what I've just told you?"

' _Yes'_ Gabriel thought to himself as he busied himself with neatly arranging the fringes of one of the cushions. _'Cause if I'm being perfectly honest, I've_ _only followed_ _your_ _summon all the way to India because_ _it_ _usually —_ _at_ _some point—_ _involves a few rounds of_ _incredibl_ _e post break_ _-up sex._ _'_

Which was why being lectured for the better part of two hours certainly hadn't been on his agenda. But then again Gabriel had never really expected to experience what it might feel like to stumble into a parent-teacher meeting _late_ , unsuspecting and with a bit of a hangover.

If only Kali had intended for this to be some kind of naughty role-play…

Giving a wistful sigh, Gabriel realized that he couldn't even tell for sure which one of the brats was actually responsible for pissing Kali off like this —or what kinda stunt they'd pulled, for that matter— but _holy_ _cannelloni_ , he'd have to congratulate them for—

"Have you even listened to a single word I said just now?" the dark haired goddess challenged with a dangerously low quality to her voice; completely unapologetic about interrupting his private little bingo game of _Who fits the shoe?_

It certainly didn't help when Gabriel just smirked at the shockwaves of capricious magia that promised pain and retribution depending on his answer. But then again, Kali didn't do soft. She was a goddess who _demanded_ attention, taking _what_ she wanted, _when_ she wanted it and… yeah, okay, Betsy was probably right. He was a total sucker for that.

"Oh, believe me, I got it" Gabriel assured her easily; having finally made up his mind about which one of his kids would make the most convenient scapegoat. "Look, that boy always had this weird thing with cows, alright? I've tried talking him out of it after he'd picked a fight with the ox from that chinese zodiac gang… Butwell, what can I say? It's hard to resist sometimes" he conceded as his eyes travelled from Kali's bare feet to where her red sari tastefully clung to her curves — smirking at her obvious exasperation with him.

"You, my gorgeous goddess… _You_ really hate those phonies lining up like sheep for plastic surgery, right? That's because for you it's all about the changing aspect of nature. That bit between life and death — and I get that, really, I do. It's only that Sleip… well, you see, Sleipnir just never really got along with cows."

Throwing in a helpless shrug for good measure, Gabriel finished with some flourish, "However, I promise you that I'll talk to him. Sleip won't ever bother your sacred cows again — consider it done and dealt with, hot stuff."

Kali merely raised one of her dark brows in question, her beautiful eyes darkening with some sort of unspoken promise.

Gabriel, who took her reaction as sign that he was so acing this —even without Liz' somewhat unreliable touch for diplomacy— already formed ideas for their own little chocolate dipped samba dance.

Making sure that Betsy 2.0 was facing the wall, the Norse Trickster finally allowed himself to be drawn towards Kali's crackling orbit of magia — smug smirk and wiggling brows in full action as he swaggered to her side of the room. "Now, how 'bout we—"

— **WHACK—**

What followed that first stunner was a series of well-aimed strikes and punches; all of them taking full advantage of the fact that the Trickster was completely unprepared for this type of physical assault.

"That's kinda rough even for—hey! Kali, I— _ugh—_ "

Before Gabriel could even finish that sentence, Kali had effectively kneed him; sending him and his stupid piñata flying across the room — a rain of candy bra beads pattering all around the furious goddess.

"You really think I wouldn't be able to take care of Sleipnir myself if he were to harm one of the sacred herd? But just so we're on the same page — I wasn't talking about cows, I was talking about a _clown_. And I am not referring to you, although you might meet the same fate if you continue to purposefully anger me."

The colorful beads around her bare feet burst into flames as Kali made her way over to where some muttered curses came from behind the toppled settee.

Easily towering over the form of her former lover, she waited for him to give her his full attention this time before she spoke, "You know what, Lo- _ki_ , I now am really sorry for ruining your little pity party. I shouldn't have assumed that you would be interested to know that Elizabeth has taken up residence with three hunters — two of which answer to the name of _Winchester_."

Still wincing as he pushed the piñata off of him, Gabriel needed a second before the words fully registered in his mind.

"She did _**WHAT**_?"

\ i /

— _**SNAP**_ —

/ i \

And so, just like that —only seconds after Loki's ominous _**»Hiya Betsy«**_ — the night sky of South Dakota gave way to the lush, sun-drenched greenery someplace in the eastern hemisphere; the early afternoon cocooning Liz with the residue humidity of what appeared to be one of the first sunny days following monsoon season.

… Because, apparently, Loki was in a bit of a mood.

(And Hel might have decided to throw her under the bus, after all.)

But that was alright. Liz would have probably done the same in her situation.

It was however a bit more difficult to ignore that her _whole_ body felt like it had been manhandled into some kind of incredibly _moist_ handshake. Which was honestly just _ugh_ and didn't really help to improve her overall situation.

So Liz took a moment to debate whether or not she really wanted find out just how far up shit creek Loki had deigned to drop her off this time. A question that always ended in a bit of a tie between her having a near-death experience and then again making the unlikeliest of friends.

(Like that time she'd ended up literally knocking on Death's door after Loki had suddenly ditched her during their trick-or-treating marathon. Thankfully Death had been more amused than anything else; only asking if he was allowed to take a picture of her in that angel costume before returning her home.)

Liz somehow doubted that she'd get away with a photo this time.

That was why, with one deep, shuddering breath, the Irish supernatural finally decided to tap into her magia in order to get an overall read of the place.

…Which, _of course_ , turned out to be much easier said than done; especially when her magical fine motor skills turned out to be more or less at par with those a hungover person helplessly pawing for water on the morning after.

And while Liz had been forced to acknowledge that her powers weren't all that reliable on the best of days, it certainly didn't help when her teleportation sickness suddenly decided to beat her round the head with some nicely timed vertigo.

With an inward groan of _'Oh gods, no'_ Liz rolled over, lost her balance and hit the ground face first.

' _Well, could've been worse'_ she told herself; realizing that she hadn't been that high up in the first place. _'At least I haven't taken another swan dive into a live volcano.'_

Waiting as small bits of her magia finally spluttered through her system with a death rattle reminiscent of those old filter coffee machines, Liz' head groggily flopped to the side — the gravel of the path sticking to her sweaty cheek.

What greeted her was the sight of paths lined by old banyan trees, mangos and a shrubbery made of pinnate leaves and curiously shaped seed pods. Squinting a bit at them, Liz decided that they actually looked suspiciously like tamarind…

' _Oh… ohh nooo.'_

Giving a rather unladylike groan, the Irish supernatural tilted her chin to make out the source of the gentle burble that'd been accompanying the underlying static in her ears. Peeking out from behind a fountain, Liz spotted what looked like the flowers of a neem tree.

Indian lilacs...

India.

Well, whatever Liz had expected, _this_ certainly wasn't it. But then again, that was how she felt most of her days, so why would their reunion be any different? In the end it apparently all came down to Loki feeling entitled to snap her about as he saw fit while she wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that.

Concentrating on her fading nausea in order to get rid of those uncomfortable thoughts, Liz wiggled a bit to get more comfortable on the hard gravel since there was absolutely no way that she would be able to get up on her own.

' _Hopefully I won't have to wait for too long until he comes to get—'_ and that was when the blonde suddenly realized that she couldn't really say for sure that somebody would come to pick her up.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Liz carefully addressed the Trickster in her head.

{… Loke, just to be sure: we aren't playing _kiss-off_ , are we?}

"Nah, we're not" his voice answered her tentative prayer with a faint note of amusement. Needless to say, his voice came from somewhere suspiciously close. "Pretty sure it's against the rules to play that game with people of an unsound mind. Last time I left you to explore a bit on your own, it took you almost three weeks to make it out of the desert. And we don't have that much time today. Maybe the next time you tell me to get lost?"

Taking a long deep breath, Liz found herself asking, {How long have you been here?}

A small snort gave her a general idea of what to expect from his answer.

"Well, I managed to get a first row seat for your glorious game of _Whac–Ya–Magic_ … if that's what you're worrying your pretty noggin about." His lollipop noisily changed its cheek pouch; rattling along some teeth on the way. "Sorry, but I just _have_ to ask: Did you actually try to _pummel_ your magia into submission?"

Lifting her head with great caution, Liz finally flipped her face to the other side to give the demigod a good long stare.

"I know, I know — I did promise that I'd never zap you 'round _without_ asking first" Loki lamented as if he was the one most affected by her teleportation illness.

However, after one of his more impressive eye rolls, his features quickly morphed back to his trademark smirk — the glint in his eyes easily challenging her insistent frown, "However, we both know _very_ well that there was this teeny tiny part of you that contemplated sticking your newly acquired iron accessory where the sun don't shine, sweet cheeks. They made a fire poker wielding maniac out of ya."

If Liz hadn't already entertained such thoughts _before_ he'd gone and rudely relocated her halfway across the continent, Loki had certainly given her a few ideas now. Especially about that nice, pointy fire poker she'd been forced to leave behind at Robert's place.

The Trickster meanwhile just watched her idly from his position on the park bench — the same she had so gracefully vacated earlier.

"Betsy-bets, what am I supposed to do with you?" the slightly taller demigod leant forward — hands dangling from where his elbows rested on his knees.

"Aww c'mon! See that _beautiful_ fountain over there? Can't you be at least a bit more grateful that I didn't just drop your ass _in_ the water? 'Cause let me tell you, fairy bug— wasn't until halfway across Africa that I changed my mind 'bout that one" Loki happily informed her, although he did extend one hand to gently peel off some gravel from her cheek.

"Now, how about we get you off the ground, little starfish?"

Not feeling particularly forgiving, _or_ grateful, for that matter, Liz ignored the offered hand in favor of addressing what had been bothering her since she'd first laid eyes on him.

{Please tell me you won't keep _that_.}

Trying to feign indifference, the Trickster pulled a face, "But it's a friendship bracelet Bale gave me! I know the beads look a bit tacky—" and here he raised his wrist to skillfully break off one of the pearls with his teeth, "— but they're not as bad as they look… I am supposed to eat one every time I think of him, you know?"

{While I do appreciate that you two moved on from those awful gobstopper figurines you used to carry everywhere—} Gabriel, happy to prove her wrong gleefully produced said object from thin air, the other Trickster's distinctive face already reduced to a colorful blob.

Whereas normal gobstoppers, or jawbreakers, were usually just sweets with many colorful coatings, these custom-made mini versions of the two Trickster-buddies actually had several layers of clothing that you had to lick off first. And because that activity wasn't awkward enough for everyone else in public places, Xbalanque and Loki had modified them with—

 **»Oh, how I missed your sweet mouth on me, honey!«**

— _voice-overs_.

Ignoring the familiar deep rumble of Bale's voice, Liz tried to get back to the actual topic. Because it certainly hadn't been the Tricksters' friendship bracelets she'd been talking about earlier, {As I was saying—}

 **»Ahhn, yes, right** _ **there— !**_ **«**

Bale's unashamed narration of Loki's exploration made it very nearly impossible to actually focus on what she wanted to say. Especially because it reminded Liz of all the times those two idiots had ruined a perfectly nice evening with their little game.

{Glad to know I won't responsible for getting us arrested this time. Wonder what you'll get for indecent behavior in India… }

Satisfied now that he'd managed to distract her from her original question, Loki made the figurine disappear. "You should see the one Bale modeled after you." He apparently couldn't help wiggling his browns at her. "It's _huge_."

{Like that thing in your face?} Liz innocently prodded; the dreamy look on Loki's face instantly replaced with indignation.

Stroking his… well, one could probably call it a _beard_ , he addressed her with a haughty twist of his mouth, "I'll have you know that many people complimented me on it."

{Who's _people_?}

"You can't really expect me to list them all."

Liz gave as much of a shrug as she actually managed pull off under the given circumstances; suggesting that she didn't have anything better to do.

With a loud wet _pop_ Loki removed the lollypop from where he'd stuffed it after his small interlude with the gobstopper. "You're just being prissy because I didn't consult you _first!_ … And _nah-ah!_ Don't you _dare_ deny that!"

She didn't.

Because Liz honestly couldn't have kept that ridiculous smile off her face even if she'd tried.

{You look like the Dude from Big Lebowski.}

"Now, listen here, chuckles, I didn't—"

" _K_ _shama karen_ " a new and _distinctly_ embarrassed voice interrupted them in smooth Hindi — prompting both demigod and the blonde supernatural to snap their heads towards the sudden arrival.

A woman in a beautiful sari had just appeared a few steps down the path; all the while keeping a respectful distance. She didn't seem to be all that perturbed by walking in on the scene of the Trickster leaning forward to accusingly point his red lollipop at the silently snickering female, who was lying spread-eagled on the gravel before him.

"Mahakali awaits you in her afternoon parlor and wishes to extend an invitation to you and your companion" she greeted Loki with a careful bow. Raising one hand to her own throat, she also acknowledged Liz with an inclination of her head, "I've been asked to offer my voice for the duration of this meeting. I'll await you next to the fountain to take you to Kali Ma."

Without further ado, the woman turned around and disappeared — the greenery of what appeared to be Kali's palace gardens swallowing her form in a matter of seconds.

Liz only blinked.

And Loki…

Well, Loki was watching her with his chin comfortably buried in his hand — a shit-eating grin forming beneath the thicket of a beard.

"Ye _ **p**_. That means trouble — _looots_ of trouble, actually" he confirmed her suspicions about why Kali would want to see both of them. "So, you ready for the best part, Bets?"

Loki didn't even wait for her reaction; instead hauling her up and against his side before he gleefully steered her towards her doom.

" _I_ didn't do a thing. This time, it's _aaall_ on you, cuddles."

* * *

 **Xbalanque** / ʃɓalaŋˈke – Shh-ballankay / _n._ is one of the Maya Hero Twins, represented in an old Maya myth. Since he is also a Trickster, he and Loki discovered that they had a lot in common. They have a Turk/JD (Scrubs) worthy bromance going on. Liz started calling him _Bale_ (because she thinks he's a bloody calamity) and it kinda stuck.

 **Mahakali** / Mahākālī / _n._ literally translated as _Great Kali_ , is sometimes considered as a greater form of Kali and can also be used as an honorific of the goddess — it's the formal address Liz uses in this chapter. **Kali Ma** means _Kali Mother_ and is used as an address by one of the goddess' attendants.

 **k** **shama karen** / ksamə karə / _n._ translates as _Pardon_ or _Please Excuse me_ in Hindi and is used by Kali's attendant when she interrupts Loki and Liz in the palace gardens.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I am so sorry for this hideously late update. I've rewritten the beginning of this chapter like a hundred times to get Liz and Loki to work the way I wanted them too. When I started on the first chapters I would have never imagined that it would become so difficult to set the right tone between two people who care about one another —know each other inside out, really— but fought over something so very fundamental that they're suddenly out of tune.

That's why I would like to especially thank you guys for your support — the follows, favorites and especially your review, **Krislyngera**!

I split the chapter so the next update shouldn't take as long; working on it as you read this one. Also: there's a teeny tiny hint in the first actual part of this chapter that tells you guys who is going to appear in the 6th chapter. Can anyone guess the name of the little girl who sold her soul?

 **#funfact** : Most of this chapter takes place at Kali's summer palace — for those of you who like checking out beautiful exotic places: it's the Lake Palace in Udaipur.


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